Serving the Scarecrow
by rain-days
Summary: Melissa works for Crane to save herself. Is it just to save herself or is there an interest in fear? Druggings,the 'Blitz',threats,new patients all occur. Can there be romance or is it just a contest to see who stabs who in the back first?
1. Birthday Suprise

_**Disclaimer of which I will only do once**: Don't own Gotham nor Dr. Crane (though I would thoroughly enjoy it if I did), or any other thing from the Batman Begins movie, other Batman movies, and the comics as well. Melissa though, she's mine- So is every other character that I invited. Hands off._

_**Author's Note** This is about Crane's intentions, my Melissa, and the intertwining of different things. Pasts, thoughts, "morals", etc. I had said before that the movie doesn't really change my story at all, my fic isn't really pre, post, or during the movie- but I changed my mind. The fanfic is now pre-movie. _

_(Chapters that I've already got here through chapter nine are revised so that there are no-or at least less typos and errors.) _

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_Chapter One:_

_**Birthday Surprise**_

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Her navy blue eyes snapped opened in an instant, her heart and mind were racing. Each breath she took shook uncontrollably. Her arms and legs were shaking and would not stop shaking even though she mentally screamed at herself to stop. She stared at the ceiling, afraid to look elsewhere, afraid to even move an inch. She listened for a noise, any noise that was coming from inside her room.

Faint ramblings, wails, and shouts could be heard from down the hall, but nothing from inside her room. She let out a sigh that was crossed with a sob as tears stung at her eyes. The girl did not belong here with all of these others. The girl was still a mere girl...wasn't she?

Her eyes looked to the window that had bars across it, to the black night sky, dotted with twinkling stars. She grabbed the blankets closer to her body, pulling them up to her chin. If it was midnight, or after, she was eighteen. She'd be able to walk out of this 'institution'. But if was before midnight, she'd still be seventeen, under her parent's, actually foster-parent's, control. They placed her here, into Arkham Asylum.

What was so wrong with her? Well she'd often ask that question herself. According to the 'doctors', she was bipolar to quite a degree, greatly paranoid, was a compulsive liar, and was constantly thinking of suicide. That earned her to spend her last three months of being a seventeen-year-old here. But she could think of excuses for everything that was 'wrong' with her. The bipolar disorder could be genetics (though she didn't know if anyone else in her family had it) and so it wasn't really her fault. Paranoia- well she had nearly been raped in some filthy back alley two years ago- that could cause anyone to be paranoid. And a compulsive liar? She was seventeen years old- it wasn't unusual to lie. Thoughts of killing herself- what else was she to think of? Death would be better than being locked up in an institution.

Her breathing slowly began to return to normal, and her body wasn't so tense. She pushed the blankets down to her stomach as she closed her eyes again. A smile, an actual smile, reached her rosy lips. Tomorrow, she could walk out of this hellhole, into the bright sunshine. She'd be able to wear t-shirts and torn jeans again. The breeze would blow through her raven black hair, which now fell just past her shoulders, as she walked down the streets of Gotham. One of the girl's friends already promised her that she could move into her apartment with her.

Everything would be much better. No more silent conferences with her doctor, no more shots, no more pills, and no more of anything else horrible. She only had to get through the night and everything would be so much better. She could go on and live her own life. After getting enough money, she'd move out of her friend's apartment and move far away from Gotham. Far, far away. It wasn't that she hated the city, but lately the city was getting worse and worse and she knew she could do better.

A slight noise reached her ears but this time when she heard it, she sat bolt upright in bed.

It sounded like someone was writing something. It made her think of the sessions with her psychologist. He'd ask her tons of questions, but she'd only stare out of his office window, not bothering to answer. Why should she? She wasn't crazy nor she did belong in the asylum. She knew that. Why couldn't he realize it? But somehow, he'd get her to look at him at his face, and she'd feel smaller than she was. It felt like she should answer all of his questions without second thought. It made her feel like she was a servant to him.

It was something in his blue eyes. His eyes entranced her in a shocking way. His eyes made her heart jump. Not in the way that she would melt if he looked to her- her heart jumped in an indescribable way. In a way like he could control any and everything. Like he had a plan and answer to everything. It was as if he was analyzing every word that she said, but in a way more than any psychologist could or should.

She turned to look into a corner of her room, into the corner where the simple chair was at. The chair was usually empty, Melissa wouldn't even sit in it, but it was occupied now. She squinted her eyes to see the person who was hidden in the shadow. Why would a doctor be here now? She caused no trouble and certainly not in the middle of the night.

"Ah, I see you're finally awake, Melissa." His voice came in a calm, pleased tone.

"Yeah..." She mumbled, utterly confused.

"Happy Birthday, Millie."

_Millie_? Only few called her that. Her friends...and her doctor. He thought that it would help her relax and trust him in their sessions.

"Dr. Crane?" She ventured slowly, softly, nervously.

"How about one last appointment before you're checked-out?"

For a moment she said silent, her brows furrowed in confusion, her lips in a frown. "Right now?" She asked while she putting her feet on the floor, grabbing her robe from the floor and throwing it over her gown.

"Yes... just one last one, in my office. It will help me to see how much you've changed during these months. " He explained calmly, in a level voice. He stood up, putting a small notebook in the pocket of his white lab-coat. He held out his arm, motioning toward the door.

Melissa stood there, staring at him, then cleared her throat and shrugged, "Okay." She mumbled as she started to walk to the door. She stopped right before it, waiting for him to step in front of her to unlock it.

_'Why would he-' _

Her thoughts were cut off as she felt his arm around her waist, pulling her back to him. His other hand, which was holding a damp cloth, went to her mouth. She panicked and tried to pull his hand away from her mouth, trying to kick his legs, but he had a steady grip. _'Stay Awake, Stay Awake!'_ Her mind screamed to the rest of body.

"This will benefit everyone, just wait and see." He whispered softly into her ear, just before everything fell into blackness.


	2. The Doctor is In

_AN- Thank you for the reviews! I was starting to lose hope in my story! yes...I know...impatient..._

_Well...Read on!_

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_Chapter Two:_

**The Doctor is In**

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Jonathan Crane had easily gotten Melissa out of the asylum. He had placed her limp body in a wheelchair, letting her head droop forward so that her hair fell in her face. That way, in case another doctor came that knew Melissa, they wouldn't be able to recognize her. Though, since the second week she was placed in the institution, he had made sure that he was her _only_ doctor. Yes, a few annoying nurses would go in and out of her room every-so-often, but never the same ones. As far as Johnathan knew,to everybody Melissa, except of course him, was a nobody and didn't exist.

He had laid her gently in the backseat of his car. That's when he paused the plans, staring down to her face. Not in regret at his plans, but in slight surprise. Could this really be the face of a murderer? Her soft pink lips, fair skin, and black hair made her look more like... Snow White who was currently doing a Sleeping Beauty impression. He leaned out of the back, closing the door as he shook his head. He was thinking of how this girl, who was drugged and passed out in the back of his car, was like a fairy tale princess. Well, princess or not, he needed, and more importantly wanted, to follow through with his plans.

Putting a hand through his hair, he looked around the empty parking lot, then back at Melissa. "Good." He shortly declared as he stepped into his car, turning the key in the ignition. The ride home was a silent one, silent except for his breathing. He had to get to the factory as soon as possible. Driving the streets, he glanced to the drivers in the other lane as they passed. They had no idea that he had a girl drugged in the back of his car, and what would become of her. But even if they did, they most likely wouldn't take a second thought of it. These days in Gotham, it was 'every man for himself'. Things likehaving a drugged passenger in the carwere not too uncommon.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he pulled into the parking lot of the old, run-down factory. It hadn't been used in more than seventy years. It was a wine factory, or cream factory, whatever kind of factory it was, Jonathan wasn't too sure, nor did he care. The factory was perfect. It was outside of the city, but not too far, it was unsuspecting, and it had a basement. A basement which was great. He had replaced the lighting, and had a few random people clean it.

Those first random people, were kind and helpful and that was why he decided to test on them first. Because they were kind and helpful, they couldn't deny Dr. Crane who was intelligent, logical, and everything else they had awe in. Not that he asked if they wanted to help with his little experiments though. But even still, they couldn't deny him.

He shut off his car, and open the door to the back to the soundly-sleeping Melissa.

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She let out a soft sigh, turning her head to the side. But her head didn't rest upon her pillow, it rested on something smooth and cool. It reminded her of some of the old hospital operating tables she saw in movies, and in the asylum where other patients would be given coutless shots of all sorts of medicines into their veins. It made her think of when she had a mental breakdown on her second night from all the insane screaming of the others. 

Melissa had been sitting in her room, on the bed that rested on the floor, with her knees hugged to her chest. Her skin looked sickly pale, and dark circles had formed under her eyes. Her ususal soft hair was greasy and in clumps from when she ran her fingers through her hair. Thinking of her parents she hadn't seen since she was eleven, and of her foster parents, she had started to slowly rock back and forth, mumbling "They didn't want me. Mom and Dad gave me away. Jesse and April didn't want be either. They sent me here. They didn't want me."

And with that, she broke into soft tears. But hearing shouts and screaming of others who were truly insane, she realized in what kind of place she was. She'd be stuck here her whole life. The world saw her as crazy. Melissa crawled to a corner of the room,puther hands to her face, burying her face into the corner as she sat in a small ball crying more. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe only she thought she was normal, maybe that's what every nutjob thinks. As her thoughts dug deeper and deeper, she felt utterly alone, like she was drowning in a pit.

She was so lost in her mind, in her hopeless thoughts, that she had started sobbing hysterically, giving a scream of horror at what she became every few moments. Her hands clawed at the padded rooms, wanting to escape.

Before she knew it, arms were pulling her back away from the corner and she screamed louder, wanting to stay in the saftety of the corner. She started to flail her arms, tears rolling down her cheeks. Someone's strong arms were forcing her to lie down in her bed. That brought her back to the memories of a couple years before, when she had been walking down a street, and was pulled into an alley by a rugged man and was nearly raped. And _that _thought didn't help her calm down any.

She felt a needle jabbed into her arm, which sent a jolt through her body at the shock. A small gasp escaped her and she kept her eyes tightly closed, but her sobs softened after a few moments. She hiccuped every few breaths as the crying subsided.

"There... Calm down, take deep breaths. Everything is alright, Melissa." At hearing her name said by a soothing but firm voice, she opened her eyes and looked up at the man holding her down. That was the first time she had any real contact with Dr. Crane.

Dr. Crane.

Weren't they just talking a few seconds ago? About one last meeting before she checked-out?

She opened her eyes and felt her heart and stomach being squeezed by an invisable hand. This was not her room at the asylum, not the dayroom, nor were they inDr. Crane's office. Her eyes looked to the cupboards, the counters, where many small bottles were neatly placed. She whipped her head to the other side in alarm and saw him sitting with his back to her, hunced over a desk. Melissa opened her mouth, about to call out to her doctor, but she stopped. Something about him, even though he was turned away, seemed wrong at the moment. Deathly wrong.

Melissa slowly tried to sit up, but quickly found that she couldn't lift her upperbody up more than a few inches off the table. She lifted her head and looked to her arms. They were wrist-up, strapped to the table at the wrists and a couple inches above the elbow. Her legs were also strapped above the knees, and at the ankles.

"I'm happy to see your awake, Melissa. I was about to use the smelling salts." Dr. Crane had turned his chair , watching Melissa discover why she couldn't move.

She looked at him, tears at her eyes, but she was holding them back. "Why am I here?"

He looked at her and took a thoughftul breath, folding his hands together. "You're here to help me solve a problem, to help figure out why my mixture is not working."

"W- What?"

Pushing his glasses back to the bridge of his nose he let out the breath and stood up, walking over to a counter, "You'll help benefit society."

"What?" She asked with her eyebrows quirked even higher, as she tried to move further and further away from him even though she was strapped to the table.

He turned around with a metal tray in hand, walking toward her, "I don't expect you to understand, Melissa. It's complicated. All you need to do is lie there. That's it."

"Dr. Crane?" She asked again, hoping that hearing his name will bring him back to his sane self.

"Feel free to call me Jonathan. Your no longer my patient, I'm no longer your doctor. We're working _together_ on this." He set the traydown on asmall table that was next to the bed. Melissa looked at it and saw an assortment of needles, a dark blue vial, and a tube. She was going to get a shot of...a shot of-

"What is that?" She blurted out, struggling , as he swabbed the a spot on her lower arm.

He let out a sigh, and his blue eyes looked to hers, "It does no use to struggle. It only wastes your energy, Mille."

"What is that...Jonathen?" She asked again, tears escaping her eyes.

"A tonic." He answered as he attached the small tube and needle.

She stopped stuggling, her eyes looking back to his face. "Is it toxic?"

Jonathan stopped and looked to her, brushing some hair out of her face. He rested his hand on her forehead softly and gave a look of sympathy. "It's possible, if I have the right amounts of everything, that it isn't. That's what we're here to figure out."

His eyes continued to offer his ex-patient a soft, gentlelook. After a few more seconds, he turned away from her. She closed her eyes, wishing to be anywhere but there. When she opened her eyes to look at him again, her heart jumped into her throat.

Jonathan had tied a pale blue surgerical mask around his face, put on gloves, and was reaching his hands back to the tray.


	3. Criminally Insane, After All

_Author's Note:_ _What took so long? Lots of things. Main thing being- Writer's block and School._

_Then tonight I was in a lame mood and had nothing to do and whatnot, So I decided to update this story... I'm okay with it. Hope you like it. Don't forget to review! It's disheartening when I try and try and only have a few reviews (But love you all so much that did review)... And when it's disheartening- it's hard to write... But-_

_Enjoy!_

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_Chapter 3:_

**Criminally Insane, After All**

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Melissa gave a shrill scream as she saw what her cool and collected doctor was doing. He had picked up a syringe, it was quite a long silver needle that glinted in the humming light. The needle in itself with threatening enough, it seemed to be laughing and dancing and taunting. Crane seemed too preoccupied to hear her screaming as he carefully stuck the needle into the bottle, collecting some of the liquid in it.

She violently thrashed, twisted, and turned on the table, choking herself with uncontrollable sobs.

Dr. Crane's chilling blue eyes flickered to her face that was becoming tear-strained, then back to the needle as he carefully took it out. He discarded the bottle in a small, silver tin. It made a cracking noise as it was dropped in. Apparently, there were other bottles already inside. Just how many times had he done this to people- living, breathing people? At that thought- another scream crossed with a sob escaped her mouth. Dr. Crane seemed to have suddenly turned deaf though.

Dr. Crane sat with his back more rigid as he turned back to her. His attention seemed to be back on her. He shook his head softly, in a disapproving manner. He sighed, "Melissa. I really wish you would stop."

"I don't-" She began, trying to speak, but it was useless. Her breaths were rapid, as her lungs gasped for air in between sobs. Her throat felt dry, sticky, and like she had just swallowed fire.

"Don't?" Crane questioned, his brows furrowing together. He had decided he'd humor her.

"Belong here." Melissa finally managed out. She held her breath, trying to get control of her breathing as her eyes stayed focused on the needle. "I didn't belong in the asylum." She said as she began trying to twist away again.

"Stop it." Crane commanded her immediately. He seemed angry or frustrated by her actions. "Breath, Millie. You'll hyperventilate." His eyes flew up and down her body in a slightly entranced way. Not entranced by _her_ in _that_ manner of speaking, but rather entranced by something she reminded him of. She twisted like a snake- A small garden snake that would twist and turn and hiss feverishly, trying to escape the grasp of a small child's hand.

While Jonathan Crane was in elementary school- well, even then he had been taunted and teased. He was an easy victim for anyone- the older boys, the boys in his grade- the girls even had their fun with him. When he was in fourth grade- one day, he had come home from school with his glasses broken into two, a skinned knee, pants ripped on both knees, and a tear in his shirt. His mother had not shown up at home yet, so Jonathan had quickly changed from those clothes that clearly shown he had been prey, into another pair of pants and a shirt that was much too baggy for a young boy- and set off into their backyard.

It could hardly be called a backyard- what little grass they had was yellow, the rest was dirt- but there was a small flower bed. Jonathan had often sat by it, staring at his mother's flowers, his eyes lost in his thoughts. Then, that fateful day, a hissing noise reached his ears. He peered down to see a small green snake staring up at him with its small black eyes focused on him, its tongue flickering. With a glare, the small boy suddenly grabbed the snake, pressing his thumb on the snakes small head for control.

"I'll show them." He muttered darkly as he stood up. "I'll show them all… They'll be sorry." With the snake in hand- Jonathan made his way into his house. The snake didn't live for more than two days. It had most likely died of the stress that the little boy inflicted upon it...

"Stop it, Melissa." He echoed, his thoughts beginning to turn back to the current situation. "Your body well need its strength to beat this." Jonathan said in the doctor-like but this-should-be-common-sense-you-foolish-girl tone of voice. He looked back to her face as she slowed the twisting and turning until she completely lie motionless on the table. He looked at her with a stern look, and opened his mouth to give a calm threat, "If you can't control yourself, I will give you a sedative. It will help you relax." For awhile. Only a brief while.

Melissa stopped immediately. A sedative? No. She had gotten those in the asylum. She hated them. The drugs would relax you for awhile- but then slowly cause your mind to go into a slowed panic. You'd panic because your mind would be groggy, you weren't able to think properly, it would take you more time to comprehend with the doctor's voices were saying and asking you, they always sounded like they were in the far distant. That isn't what you wanted in an asylum. When a person is groggy, they are much easier to get to answer questions, and to be willing to take new drugs.

"There's a good girl." Jonathan said in an almost proud way, ignoring the look of horror on her face. "Good girl." He said smoothly, encouragingly as he moved a hand to her arm, the spot that he had swabbed, his finger moving about the spot gingerly- He was trying to find the vein in her arm again.

She felt as if she'd be ill at any moment. Melissa closed her eyes, shaking her head- "Please, Dr. Crane…Jonathan… Don't. I don't belong here. I've done nothing to deserve this." But at this last comment, his finger had stopped moving briefly- and a feeling in the air between them changed. This change caused her to open her eyes to his. He stared down in at, as he continued to rub her arm.

"You haven't got any memory of it, do you?" It wasn't actually a question- he was the doctor after all. It was just something to be said that promised he'd explain in the following moment.

She took a slow breath in, staring at him questioningly. Half of her wanted to know what he was talking about and the other half didn't. "…What?" She asked in a whisper. His finger stopped moving again, this time though- he found the vein.

"It's perfectly normal. It was too traumatic, and the brain blocked off that memory. I'm sure that _if_ we had more sessions…" Jonathan's voice faded for a moment, thoughtfully, at what _could've_ been- "That I could help you remember it."

Melissa knew what he was doing- he was only dawdling from saying it bluntly. She could tell by the sound of his voice that he loved this moment. He wanted her to ask him what was wrong with her. Wanted her to request, to demand, to beg him to tell her what was wrong. "_Remember_?"

He looked into her eyes for a few moments longer- then down to her arm as he changed the position of the syringe in his hand. Now it was ready for the jab.

Jonathan leaned a bit closer to her arm, but his eyes went back to hers. "Melissa…" He ventured slowly, as if he was trying to break this to her gently.

"The Asylum was opened for the criminally insane…You were placed in Arkham Asylum not only because you were mentally unstable…" His voice was building her up with each word her said. His voice becoming more lower- more unfitting for a doctor, more fitting for a homicidal maniac.

"You were placed there because you murdered your parents."

Beneath the mask, a smirk of delight had placed itself on Dr. Crane's lips—Well, actually now—on the Scarecrow's lips.

He let this moment sink in for a few seconds- letting it sink into her heart and mind before asking with dark amusement in his voice-

"Don't you remember… Millie?"


	4. Scarecrow Tells All

_A.N - See! When I get reviews- I post faster..._

_And... erm... I guess this is a part this is a little disturbing. Maybe... Or maybe just dark. I dunno. Thought I'd give you a fair warning though._

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Chapter Four:

Scarecrow Tells All

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This bit of information shut her up. She was no longer crying, sobbing, or screaming screams that made him felt he'd go deaf at any moment. The quietness, the solemness- it was Jonathan Crane preferred. A silent satisfaction. The look on her face, on her color-drained face, was indescribable. Her navy eyes were wide in shocking disbelief, her mouth hung open, to defend herself and yet she said nothing. She was speechless and fearful.

Jonathan could tell that this bit of information made the girl doubt her sanity. It could make anyone doubt their sanity- receiving the news that the had murdered their own parents. She was fearful because she thought that maybe she was mad and belonged in his dear Arkham Asylum. This fear could make her want to be locked away in the padded room again and once, twice, or maybe three times a week visit her doctor. Visit him. The brilliant, young, top doctor at Arkham Asylum. Dr. Jonathan Crane.

Of course, during their sessions, they would sit in silence. Jonathan would rise a few questions of her foster parents that had put her in the institution- an April and Jesse Mouge. She maybe would nod or shake her head a few times, but said nothing. He'd ask her about her childhood and about her life while she was living with her parents. She'd only shrug, her arms folded tightly across her chest, refusing to be a part of the session. While giving him a silence treatment, she'd stare out of the window of his office, out to the hazy sky, or the dirty streets below.

Dr. Crane hated it. He'd clench his teeth together, but keep a calm composure as he watched his young patient through his glasses. He noticed though, when he looked down to scribble notes about her, her eyes would fly instantly to the paper- trying to see what he wrote. When Jonathan looked up to her- she'd quickly shift her eyes away.

The girl hated being analyzed. Feared it. She didn't want him to know what she was thinking. It was like a weakness- to have someone know all about you and how your mind works before you yourself know. Jonathan couldn't blame her. It'd be frustrating- and yes, it would be a weakness… Unless the mind was underestimated.

Melissa's navy eyes stared up into his glacier blue eyes, entranced and intoxicated. She couldn't bring herself to look away from his eyes. She tried to, she tried to force herself to turn her head away from his, which was only inches away. He was dangerously close though- danger was also in his eyes.

During their sessions- Melissa would try to avoid looking into the eyes of her doctor. They made her feel weak and helpless, the made her feel like a servant to this man. Her doctor. All he would have to do was look into her eyes and she'd nearly have a heart attack from panic. His eyes were chilling. Intriguing and yet chilling. His eyes would cause shivers to run up your spine, and once looking at him, you were trapped. You couldn't look away. You'd feel the need to answer all of his questions. Then he'd analyze your thoughts, and diagnose you. Then he'd know all about you.

But, now it was not only a chill in his eyes- it was danger. The type to be utterly terrified of. The usual logical look on Jonathan Crane's face, even with the mask on, had melted away and replaced by something else. It was replaced by amusement, threatening, a dark delight. Melissa couldn't believe this was her doctor.

And it wasn't. It was the Scarecrow. Melissa though, unfortunately, was unaware of who the 'Scarecrow' was. And Scarecrow did not get the satisfaction from Melissa's silent fear like Dr. Crane did. No, not at all. He wanted to _hear_ her fear. He wanted to get drunk off of it. He wanted her to scream.

"_You _killed them, Melissa." He told her darkly, breaking the silence, no longer caring about the 'break it to her gently' methodhe had beenusing moments before. Scarecrow leaned in, hovering over her body, his face closer to hers.

"Look at me!" He growled as his free hand grasped her bottom jaw, pointing her chin to his face- forcing her to look at him. "You _murdered_ them. You, Millie, killed your parents while they slept. Sleeping in their beds, you crept in…" He paused dramatically as a smirk rose to his lips beneath the surgical mask. "You had stabbed your father…"

Scarecrow's eyes kept focused on hers as tears begin to roll down from her eyes.

Titlting his head to the side, Scarecrow let go of her jaw as he wiped a single tear of hers away.

"Your mother… Well, I bet she just screamed and screamed." He leaned even closer, so that the mask was brushing against her ear, "Makes the blood run cold just thinking about it, doesn't it?" Melissa gasped for breath as a sob escaped and the Scarecrow leaned back. "She tried to control you. Maybe she was calling you angel, sweetie, _baby_ -trying to calm you. I figure that there was a struggle."

"Do you know where they found her?" He asked. "DO YOU?" He shouted at her. Melissa slowly shook her head, now crying and sobbing. "At the bottom of your stairs. You had _pushed_ her, Millie."

"So you see… You did belong in Arkham. You belong here as well… Haven't you ever heard of 'what goes around, comes around'?" Melissa struggled to move, to sit up, to move her arms, but all of the attempts were in vain.

"You're a murderer. You're mind is unbalanced… Face it, Melissa… You're insane." Melissa cried harder, her breathing was fast as hard as she gasped for air, she struggled more. She let out a scream, but it was crossed with a cry. He wanted her to scream out.

With a scowl, he shouted at her- "SCREAM!" Though she continued to cry, Melissa shook her head.

He grabbed her arm firmly, gripping tightly and placed the syringe in the correct position. With a frustrated glare, he glanced to her, then back to her arm as he gracefully slid the needle into her vein, injecting her withJonathan's creation.

But when he pulled out the needle- the disappointed rose. She was not even cryinganymore. She had fainted. Out of anger, he threw the needle into the small bin and whipped back to her.

Clenching his teeth together, he pulled the mask down from his mouth- then off. He yanked off the rubber gloves as his chilling blue eyes went back to Melissa's face.

She had to be awake when the effects kicked in. He has to study the effects. And to get the full of it- she'd have to be free for moving.

He pulled the straps loose from her legs, ankles, arms, and wrists. He moved back to his desk, and leaned against it as he held up his clipboard filled with paper. Also he grabbed his glasses from his desk, putting them on as he smoothed out his hair, turning his attention back to Melissa. It would be better to not use smelling-salts, to study the effects, it would be better to have her wake on her own.

So, waiting for his former patient to wake, he only stood there, Jonathan Crane's eyes watching her intently.

And after only three minutes, she gave a light moan, shifting her body on the table, starting to stir awake.

She rolled onto her side, opening her eyes slowly. Melissa stared at Jonathan for a brief moment before letting out a scream. A scream of fear. She slapped a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle it as she half rolled and half fell off of the table onto the cold floor. She pushed herself further away from Dr. Crane, against the cupboards and was utterly horrified to find she couldn't move further away.

Jonathan Crane watched her in a collected manner, taking notes, but below the Scarecrow was smirking with victory, begging to come out again to play.


	5. Panic Attack

_A.N - Yes. I know I said 'More replies, faster posts'. And yes, there have been more replies (and to those of you who reply- Thanks you sooo much! Love it. Love all you! and to those of you who wait for updates but don't reply- Aw c'mon, pretty, pretty, please?). But not so quick updates... I had actually wrote the first half of this chapter quite some time ago... But couldn't think of a good way to continue on. And school was busy too, with it being the end of first quarter..._

_But, I think that this should make up for my lacking. I hope. Review and tell me if it does? Hope it does. I tried. Hard._

_Oh yes, and also:** Warning-** Violence in this chapter._

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**Chapter 5:**

**_Panic Attack_**

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'She's still just a girl. Only a child.' Jonathan said hesitantly.

_"It would be good to test on a new group. See how those react differently to it."_

'I don't know.'

_"You had it in mind before. At the Asylum. You had it planned when you first met the girl. Now do it_." The Scarecrow commanded.

'She's already panicking enough. Something more could push her over the edge. Then I'd have to find someone else at Arkham.'

Jonathan licked his lips, as he tore his fascinated eyes away from Melissa, looking down to his hands. He let out a slow steady breath as he eyes turned to his black, leather, Italian-made briefcase set next to his desk. It held his valuables. His trusty pens that seemingly never ran out of ink when all the others did, his folders about the drug, about the backgrounds of those he tested it on, the mask.

The mask was not like the ordinary mask doctors owned. It was not made for protection against whatever bacteria it was that patients had. It didn't tie behind his head, it wasn't a pale blue. It was not, in any way, like the one he just had on while giving Melissa the injection. It was a burlap material. Like the kind that you'd fill with dead leaves in the fall to make the head of a scarecrow. Eyeholes had been cut out of it. The mouth had been cut in a messy, ragged way, then loosely re-sewn with long straps. Other doctors would probably stare at it and call it disturbing.

And it was. That was the point. It enhanced the effects of the drug.

He grabbed the handle of the briefcase, setting in onto the desk. Jonathan lifted his crystal eyes back to Melissa. Well- at least where Melissa _had _been. He had expected to see her lying in a heap on the floor, curled in a ball with her hands over her face, crying. He didn't see her at all. He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs.

His heart was pounding in his head as he calmly grabbed the mask out of his bed, keeping a steady expression on. If he had any doubts about showing her the mask before, they were erased now. That girl had the nerve to leave her place. To try and get away? Stupid girl. Thoughts were racing through his mind, hundred of thoughts. What if she did get away?

No. No she couldn't. Even if she did get away- he knew the effects of the drugs were still with her. She couldn't last long outside. It was doubtful if she'd even get out of the room. She couldn't have in the short period of time he had looked away. It was quite a large room though. She could hide, for a while. If she was smart, she'd come out though. His blood was rising in anger, frustration, annoyance, and… for what seemed like the first time- panic. But he still held the image of calmness.

In long strides, he walked to the spot that Melissa had just been, pulling the mask over his head.

"Melissa!" He shouted, in the deepest and darkest voice he could. "Oh, _Millll-ly_!" He took a few steps to the right, walking close to the counter as his eyes darted from one thing to the next. "Come out, come out, where ever you are!"

This was like a horrible game of hide and seek. Each moment that he didn't see Melissa- he felt his anger and frustration rise. His heart pumped louder. He had to find her. Each second that passed, the Scarecrow wanted to do more and more things to her. Wanted to hurt her. Wanted to punish her for doing this. Wanted to give her a high amount of the drug, and stand there with his mask on, his head thrown back in dark laughter as she screamed and screamed. She'd go insane, and before morning- he'd return her back to her room at the Asylum.

_'Poor girl.'_ Jonathan would say with a click of his tongue in pity. _'She was going to get out today'._

"Millie!" He screamed out.

* * *

Melissa stared at him in horror. This had been her doctor. Dr. Crane. What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he help her? Why was scaring her? At least… It was her doctor, right? It didn't look like him. As he screamed her named, she tightly closed her eyes, wishing the be away from this place. She wished that this was a dream and that she would wake up.

She bit her bottom lip, as to not cry out, as he strolled past the low table she was hiding under. When his footsteps had gone past, Melissa turned away, summoning up the courage to leave the hiding place. On her hands and knees, she crawled as quietly and carefully as she could- but still in a hurry. She stopped at his desk, looking around for something to hold onto. Something to use as protection.

Then she saw it- pushed near the wall. It looked like an old crank left over from- well whatever this building was in the past. It was rusted, with a wooden handle that looked weak. But- it also looked large and heavy.

She snatched it in her hand, and pushed herself under Dr. Crane's desk, in the leg space, with her knees pulled close to her chest. She gulped, tightly shutting her eyes, as she tried to hide from her former doctor. Footsteps were getting closer. Swift, yet heavy footsteps. She knew why they sounded that were. Swift because he wanted to find her and heavy with the anger of not seeing her.

The footsteps got closer, and Melissa put a hand over her mouth so her heavy, panicked breathing wouldn't be heard. And then the shadow of his legs fell across the floor in front of her, and to her horror- stopped. He was going to look under the desk. He was going to find her. He'd kill her.

And before she knew what she was doing- she had leaned out from under the temporary shelter of the desk, pulled back the crank in her hands for more power, and as she let out another scream, but now not of fear- she swung. Though it happened too fast for her to realize it- she still swung with all the power that was in her body.

_WHAM._

The large crank made contact with the back of Jonathan's leg, in the center of his calf.

In an instant, he fell to the ground in a heavy heap with a shout of pain. Melissa was too blind in the moment to see the mask, as she stood on her knees above him, raising the crank high above her head. He was laying on the ground, on his stomach. She'd give him a good hit in the back. That should be enough.

She slammed down with fury, but it was too late- He had rolled out of the way. His eyes were wide behind the mask. Melissa stared into those piercing blue eyes of his. She had always hated them before. Loathed them. She loathed them because they could see right through her. She hated them because she was infatuated with them. But now- the coolness was gone. Replaced by fear or panic. Maybe both.

The look delighted her.

Again- she swung. It hit him in the ribs. Not as hard as she wanted it to be, but she had hit him.

* * *

He gasped in pain as he felt the blow to his side. Clenching his teeth together in pain, he hoped she hadn't broken any of his ribs, but he couldn't check now for she swung the bar at him again. He caught this one though in a flash, violently twisting it from her hands.

Jonathan had wanted to make this easy for Melissa, as peaceful as possible. But she was making it difficult. Unbearable.

In a bolt, he hit her cheek with the back of his fist. It was enough to send her to the cold stone floor. He looked at her as he pulled himself up to his knees, towering over her. Melissa had taken the moment though to thrust her foot into his stomach. The kick knocked him away from her.

With a growl, he then nearly pounced upon her- like a beast on its prey. He dug his knee into her legs so she couldn't kick him. A single hand pinned Melissa's above her head on the floor- but, not before receiving a stinging slap to the face.

Both of them were breathing heavily, in ragged breaths as they stared into each other's eyes heatedly.

Melissa struggled against him, and he tightened his grip on her hands. She wasn't weak. She was putting up a good fight- but her body wasn't the size of Jonathan's. Also, he had done this before- but not like this.

"LET-ME-GO, YOU-SADISTIC SON-OF-A-"

One of his hands clamped around her neck, cutting off her from finishing. His thumb and index finger were squeezing her neck right below the joints of her bottom jaw. His palm was tightly pressed against her windpipe.

"Melissa…" He said through gritted teeth, through the mask, staring down at her. "I outta just kill you now. With my bare hands." And as he said this, his grip only tightened.

Somehow she had managed to pull her hands away from his hand that were holding them down- and now grabbed the hand the was choking her, trying to pull it away and digging her nails into his skin. He didn't stop. He cocked his head to the side, staring down at her. Her lip was bleeding from when he had hit her. The red contrasted to the blue that was now overcoming her face from the lack of air.

"Please." Melissa begged- her lips where only forming the words. She was at a loss for speech. "I'll do anything."

"Hmm? What was that, Millie? I couldn't hear you." He mocked.

"Get you anyone."

He suddenly let go of her, pushing himself away from Melissa. He stared down at her with a crooked smirk beneath the mask. His eyes watched Melissa as she gasped for air, breathing heavy, rubbing her neck.

And as she panted, her eyes closing in the pain from seconds before, he questioned her with that sadistic delight dripping from his voice-

"_Anyone_?"


	6. Striking a Deal

_A.N- AnikaJinn : Like every great hero needs a sidekick, so does a villian... even if that villian has to get their sidekick in a sadistic way...(And to all of my readers- More sadistic things to come in coming chapters. Because... this is from the villian's POV, of course). And to SenorScissors (who posted anonymously)- My Millie is not a Sue. And so maybe I am in love with Dr. Crane (honestly-how can you _not _be? He'sa lovely villian.) and maybe I despertly wish he'd fall in love with me (kidnapped by Dr. Crane? It wouldn't be kidnapped if I _agreed_ to go along though, would it? Hah.). I'll inflict upon the world whatever delusions of mine I want.So- Neh!_

_A__fter all, If my delusions will be the downfall of my sanity- I'm taking as many people with me as possible. He-he.  
_

_BUT, anyways-_

* * *

_Chapter Six:_

_**Striking a Deal**_

* * *

Melissa continued to cough, as her lungs gasped for air. The sudden air stung her lungs, but at the same time was refreshing. She rubbed her neck delicately as an attempt to help herself. She paid no attention to Crane who was watching her carefully still with that grisly mask on his face. She rolled onto her side, feeling as if she'd be ill at any moment. Violently ill. She gagged even, then let out a cry of frustration.

"Oh, now _really_ Melissa." He said in a mellow drawl as he licked his lips beneath the mask. "It wasn't that terrible now was it? You're dramatizing the situation." She wasn't though. He knew that. He was only mocking her. He had watched as her smooth skin had began to turn blue from lack of oxygen. If he held on for only a few more moments- Well, he'd be alone with a body- trying to find someplace for it. For a while at least. Until one of his thugs came and decided what was best. Maybe into the river? It would be good. The river flowed right past the old factory.

He suddenly forced her shoulders against the cold concrete floor as he draped himself over her, to prevent her from trying to escape. His knees were on either side of her, his hands holding her upper arms against the floor. "Are you going to be a good girl?"

She scowled at him. The foulest scowl he had ever received and he hated it. He wanted to hit her again for looking at him in such a way. Like he was some filthy muck left in the street gutter after a rain. She wasn't so special. How could she even think she was? Though his urge to teach her manners was great, he resisted. "Melissa?" He cooed smoothly. Melissa only pressed her lips firmly together- not wishing to answer him.

He sighed and let go of her arm as he pulled off the mask. He let it drop next to her head before leaning over her. He ran his hands up her arms to her wrists and snapped them, palm-up, to the floor. He was leaning so close to herthat their eyes were level. He looked at her straight in the eye, drawing the most intense look in his eyes as he could manage. Jonathan leaned his face closer to hers.

"Millie?" Jonathan question, lowering his voice as well.

"_MELISSA_!" She shouted suddenly at him. It was so sudden and unexpected that he quick drew his head away from hers. Why hadn't he expected she'd shout at him in such a way? He should've. It shouldn't have shocked him. But it did. "IT'S _MELISSA_ TO YOU!" Angry tears were in her eyes.

"You've got some vinegar in you, dontcha?" He commented dangerously. A hand found its way back to her neck, put he didn't press down. Only held it there as a warning. "Don't push me, Melissa. It'll be the last thing you'll ever do. I promise you that…" He let these words hang in the damp, musty air of the basement for a moment longer before venturing on- "So I won't kill you… You'll get me anyone. That's what you said isn't it?"

Melissa looked away from him. Jonathan took a breath as his eyes glanced to the mask next to her head. "Or… if you'd rather-" He slipped his hand down from her neck, grabbing the mask. He picked it up and held it in front of her face. "We could play?"

"NO!" She shouted nearly as soon as he finished the threat.

"Then I suggest, for your own good, that you start listening to me like a good girl would." He stood up, letting go of Melissa. He stood above her for a minute, then leaned against his desk. He stared down to her. She stared back to him for a few seconds that seemed to last a lifetime before finally looking away. She slowly pushed herself up into the sitting position, and pulled her knees back to her, hugging them to her chest. She looked like she was about to have a mental breakdown of some sort.

Good. He enjoyed that.

"If you still are doubtful about this… If you decide to not stick to your offer- Well there are a few things that could result from this. One- We see what you're afraid of and how long you can handle it before breaking down. Two- You get lock away for attempted murder… which is all you need." He said with a scoff. Melissa raised her eyebrows at this. "If not that- at least assault and battery with a weapon." Jonathan kicked the crank she had hit him with away from Melissa's reach, before turning back to her. "Three- Go back to Arkham… I could make it so that you would _never_ get out."

Melissa opened her mouth to speak, but Jonathan cut her off. "Oh no. I'm not finished yet… Four- I could just easily have you killed. And believe me- there wouldn't be a body found. No one would know you died… Or choice five, my favorite… Help me."

He put his right hand out for her, to help her up, as he kept his other one behind his back. "So… here's the deal: I'll let you live, happy and unharmed- as long as you get me as many people I need."

"For how long?"

"As long as I need, Melissa." He said in the calm, level, logical way. She eyed his hand suspiciously. "Ah, come on now, Melissa. If I wanted to hurt you. You should know by now that it would already be done by now. Any time I pleased..." It was a reminder that sent chills up Melissa's spine. Swallowing hard, she reached up, putting her hand into his gently.

"Good." He breathed as hepulled her to her feet. "Good." Crane repeated softly. His hand curled around hers gently as he pulled her closer to his body. "You've made the right choice. You'll see. Soon you'll see… I promise."

He took a slow breath in, regarding her closely as he lifted his other closed again to her face, running his knuckles against her jawline gently. "I promise." And with that he opened his hand, blowing the pale blue powder into her face. She pulled her head away, staring at him with wide eyes. That only lasted for a second though. He could tell her muscles had loosened by the way her shoulders dropped. The her head began to fall back, and she struggled to hold it up- but it just ended up bobbing down to the front. Her eyelids were falling shut, but she was trying to fight it. It did no use though, Crane knew.

One of his hands were still holding on to one of hers as she quickly tumbled into unconsciousness. Quickly, he slipped his other hand behind her back, as her body went limp in his arms. He let out a slow breath, turning his head towards the steps as a frown formed on his lips. A difficult journey this seemed to be- carrying Melissa with him up the steps, across the factory, and to his car with possible broken ribs and a bad limp from the crank against his calf.

Well, if she was to stay with him, helping him- there had to be no more of this. He'd have to break Melissa out of her own habits. He'd have to mold her into how he see fit.

But he wasn't worried- Jonathan Crane _never_ had trouble with it before. This should certainly be no different- if not easier.

* * *

_What I have in mind for next chapter: More backdrop on Melissa. AND- a type of twist. Maybe for you, it'll just come out of left field. It came out of left field for me. I just thought of it._ _Heh._


	7. Phone Call

_A.n- Short wait, wasn't it?_

_Okay. I changed my mind. A small sort of a 'twist', 'left-field' thing now. 'Least I hope it is for you... Closer look at Melissa in the next chapter._

* * *

_Chapter Seven:_

_**Phone Call**_

* * *

His sandy blonde hair was tosseled by the chilly wind as he walked down the street with a smile on his face. His delighted hazel eyes focusedstraight ahead of himself. It was clear that the young man had quite a great day.

It _had_ started out terrible- He had been waken up at four in the morning by the fire alarm in his apartment building. But, there was no fire- a drunk had been stumbling around the hall the floor below- and had fell, pulling the lever of the alarm down with him. Then, when he finally got to bed, he was again waken up at seven by his boss. His boss wanted him to run a few errands around town, then come into the bar. But it had been the man's day off, but it was his boss asking- he couldn't really say 'no'.

The start of the day had been slow moving. Noon had been no different . Nor was the afternoon, at least until 3:05. At that time, a group full of older, wealthy-looking men came in, all busy laughing and joking with each other, or trying to be smooth with the younger, beautiful ladies that followed. They had order drinks. A lot of drinks. A lot of rounds. They spent a lot of money- and were big tippers. Or maybe they had just got too drunk to realize the amount they had given away.

Shifts were switched- and the young man was able to go home. He had been on his way home, walking down the filthy streets of Gotham, hands shoved deeply into his coat, holding tightly on the tips he earned (over $150). That's when he had stopped, distracted, as his eyes gazed across the road to a small flower cart. His mind was made up almost instantly, and he jogged across the street, picked out ten flowers (two flowers of the five different kinds) and paid for them. After that, he turned his heel- walking in the different direction of his home.

There were more important things to attend to.

Before he knew it- he was on an Arkham Asylum elevator, riding to the third floor. When the bell dinged, and the doors slid opened and he gracefully stepped out as he hummed 'Happy Birthday to You' with a light grin on his face, staring down to the wild flowers. He wasn't sure if they'd let her keep the flowers in her room though. He wasn't sure why they wouldn't, but- this was an asylum after all. Even if she couldn't keep them- she would surely love to see them, and hold them for a few minutes.

He glanced to the desk in the corner. A man was there, but his back was turned to him, with a phone to his ear. He laughed out loud about something on the phone. The young man's brows furrowed for a moment, troubled. He should be calling and answering doctors, filing files, checking on patients- not talking and joking with an apparent friend. But he shrugged it off as his eyes turned down the hall. And without asking his for permission- turned and walked down the hall to the room on the very end.

He looked through the small, but thick window of the door, and instantly he felt his heart begin to pound. It was empty.

He tapped on the window a few times, but it was answered by no one. He tried to reassure himself that she had only been moved. Or maybe she was in a session. So, in long strides, he made his way back to the desk the man was at. He was still on the phone.

"Sir?" He asked, but the other man only held up a finger. He licked his lips impatiently, glancing back down to the hall.

"Sir?" His grip was tightening on the stems of the flowers nervously.

The man sighed, said "I'm going to have to let you go…Alright… Yes… Good-bye." He hung up the phone and looked at him with an annoyed expression- "Can I help you?" He asked with sarcasm of politeness.

"Uh- Yeah… Where is she? Was she moved? Is she with her doctor? I came for a visit. It's her birthday." He asked the questions and shortly explained why he was here in a single breath.

"Who is 'she'?"

"Melissa Cory."

The man turned to his computer, typed in the letters, and waited. "And who are you? Family relation?" He asked, turning his eyes away from the screen.

"Yes. No. I mean…Well she was, or is, my foster sister. I'm Alex Stevenson." The man gave no reply, only looked back to the screen. For a few silents, he stared at it- looked back to Alex, then back to the screen with a questioning and confused expression.

"What is it?" He asked nervously.

"Well, Mr. Stevenson… There are no records of a 'Melissa Cory'."

He felt his heart pound louder as his palms became sweaty. "Melissa Stevenson?" 'Stevenson' was his parents' name, his name. Maybe when they placed Melissa here they entered her under the name.

"Nope. Nothing." The man regarded Alex closely. "No records." He repeated in a tone, a warning tone. A tone that said _'There aren't records, so leave before you get locked in a room here'_.

Alex stood there, his eyes wide, his mouth forming silent words. Swallowing hard, he turned away, walking back into the elevator without another word, without a single glance back.

The flowers were left on the desk forgotten.

* * *

The man watched as he got onto the elevator, then watched as the light at the top move from three, to two, then finally to one. Cracking his jaw, he took a slow breath as he picked up the phone again, lifting it to his ear. He dialed the numbers to get out of the asylum- than dialed his number.

There was only one ring before the phone was answered.

"Yes?"

"Hey boss. It's me. I'm still at the nut-house." No reply came to this. The man waited a moment, then cleared his throat, "Anyway… We have a problem."

"What sort of a problem?" His voice was calm- but it was obvious he was annoyed and bothered by it.

"Someone just came in looking for your girl."

"What did you tell them?"

"No records."

There was a brief pause in the conversation. "Who came in?"

"Alex Stevenson… said he was her foster-brother."

"Ah." He remembered reading something about her foster-brother in her files, but wasn't interested any further. From what he understood- He was seven years older than her, living on his own, and seemed unconcerned of Melissa's welfare. He had brushed the young man to the side.

"So what should we do, Crane?"

"Do what I hired you for. Take care of him… Have some fun." There was another pause. "On second thought- bring him to me. You can still have some fun- but don't kill him." Jonathan could always use another guinea pig for his tests.

"Now?"

"No... Watch him. Find out how he spends his time… Make sure he doesn't try to find out about his dear sister. Make sure he doesn't mention her to anyone- especially the police."

"What does it matter? They'll probably just figure she was killed." He laughed, "It happens all the time in this city."

"Yes… But if they think that- the asylum might be put under investigation. We don't need that kind of attention, now do we?"

"No, sir." He said as he shook his head to confirm this even though Crane wouldn't be able to see it.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, Doc. That's all."

"Good." And without saying anything more, Jonathan ended the conversation, hanging up the phone.

* * *

Alexander Stevenson was an interference with his plans. Crane was determined to not let anything stand in his way of reaching his goals- including the 'brother' of his new assistant. This Stevenson fellow would have to be taken care of. 

And he would be.


	8. A Shared Beginning

_**Author's Note** Long wait, I know... But- if it means anything... It's a long chapter... Or at least- one of the longest I've written. I think the it is the longest even. If it doesn't seem really dramatic and suspenseful and etc.- I'm setting the scene. That's my excuse: Setting the scene... And there's a brief look at Melissa's past. I'd say something more about it, an author's note to comment about it- but no. Then I'd be saying too much... again: Reviews help. They really do. REALLY do. No fooling. _

_But- on with it—_

* * *

_Chapter 8:_

_**A Shared Beginning**_

* * *

****

"WHERE'S THE MONEY, MOM?"

She shouted over her shoulder, kneeling on the dirty kitchen floor, rummaging through the cupboards under the sink. Melissa licked her lips, as she dropped the items she was holding, her dark blue eyes glaring. The fourteen-year-old let out a huff of air as she stood up, turning around to the ugly orange refrigerator.

She stood on her tiptoes, her right-hand grouping over the items on the top of the refrigerator. There were a few small things, a cereal box, a few letters from the apartment building. "MOM!" She shouted again, her brows furrowing as she dropped back her feet down flat against the floor. She bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hold back her frustration.

Still having no answer called back to her, Melissa walked out of the kitchen in such of her mother. It was not a long or difficult search. The apartment was small and cramped. One main bedroom, one very cramped bedroom (Which was Melissa's), closet, and a dingy kitchen that was openly attached to the small living room. Letting out a huff of air, Melissa stormed down the hallway, and threw the door open to her parents' room.

Her mother was there, staring out of the dirty, thin window to an alley of the narrows below. Melissa stood in the doorway for a moment, waiting to be acknowledged. The mass of frizz and curls of strawberry blonde hair did not bob to turn and look at her though. Melissa swallowed hard. "Mom…" She said as she tried to keep the frustration back, through her voice quivered.

"Where is the money?"

Her mother turned to see at her daughter with her navy eyes. They seemed clouded though, lost, unwilling. "Where is the money?" She repeated again, her eyebrows threatening to sink back into a scowl. "Mom!" She repeated again, her voice raising. Her mom, still with the look, the look that she wasn't even sure of who Melissa was, turned back to stare out of the grimy window.

"MOM!" Melissa screamed angrily, desperately. There was no answer, her mom seemingly had gone deaf. Another huff of air and she turned her heel, harshly slamming her parents' door behind herself.

As her black sneakers took the few needed steps to her own room, the frustration only built. She hated it here. But it was better here than out on the streets of the narrows. Not by much though. Why had her mother tried to hide the money from them? There was no place good to hide the money. They always found it. It was just a competition though of who could find it faster- Melissa or her father.

When she opened the door and had stepped it, she stared at the small room that was hers. A small closet. Her clothes were in small, plastic crates that were piled up, with the open side out, so that they could be easily grabbed. The crates were in her small closet, were her few books also were. A couple photo albums as well of the better times.

Two quilts were on her bed for warmth. Quite an old, beaten pillow was laying at the bed, near the window which currently housed a small spider in the upper-right corner. With the glare still in her eyes, Melissa threw herself onto her bed at the same time slamming the door behind her.

The sound of the slam was like a bullet. The young girl, with short black hair, buried her face into her pillow, crying in silence. The body length mirror, that had been on the door, suddenly dropped- shattering across the floor.

* * *

Melissa let out a groan, rolling onto her side, shutting her eyes even more tightly now that she was awake. She pulled her knees close to her chest, and folded her arms across her stomach, letting out a distressed breath. She felt oil and sweat and her face, her head felt like it was pounding, and her whole body felt as if it was being rocked back and forth by invisible arms.

She pushed her legs back down- away from her chest as she unfolded her arms, rolling onto her back again.

Letting out another breath, her eyes fluttered a few times before she finally opened them, staring at the blurry, crème-colored ceiling. She blinked a few times, to get her vision into focus and look to left- closet doors, a small table with a briefcase resting upon it, and then an opened door that lead to a bathroom. Then looked to the right- Three large, fancy, windows with curtains drawn together over them. Sunlight was shining in through. Then she looked to the foot of the bed- a dresser with a large mirror on top of it, and a door that was open only a crack.

Her arms pushed herself up slowly and cautiously and just then, the door opened.

"Ah, Melissa." He said in a pleased way, "Glad to see you're finally awake."

"I'm sure, doctor."

He ignored the sarcasm in her voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Why do you care?"

He stared at her, obviously annoyed, but his level expression did not at all falter. "Dizziness is common. It'll wear off soon. As will the headache. Nausea will just have to run its course. But it's a short course."

A heavy silence set in between them. It was a smothering tension of silence. Finally Melissa spoke. "How long have I—" She stopped in mid-sentence, but her mouth was still open as if she'd finish at any time.

"About two days." Jonathan glanced down to his watch, "You better be getting up. It's a quarter to noon now."

Melissa's brows furrowed questioningly. "Quarter to noon?" She was questioning the time- it was more of a 'quarter to noon- why do I have to get up… plans?' type of question.

He nodded. "This is my lunch break." Though he could set meal breaks, coffee breaks, any kind of break her wanted at any time. He was Jonathan Crane after all. He was the most valuable at the Asylum. Arkham couldn't afford to lose him. They let him have the time that he wanted.

"Why do I have to get up?"

"You need to get fitted… one of my assistants will be with you."

"What?" She asked. Did he mean a secretary of his, a personal assistant of his?

"Well… Assistant isn't the greatest word, I suppose. One of my men will be with you." Jonathan continued on, sitting at the foot of his bed, his cool blue eyes staring at her through his glasses. "He'll drive you to the shop, sit with you, wait for you while you're being fitted, and drive you back. He'll stay here with you until I return." His eyes did not at all leave hers.

Melissa forced her eyes to look back into his, to not drop down to the bed, but to stay level with him. "Fitted for what?"

Jonathan took a breath, held it in for a moment as if weighing his words and then stood up, smoothing any wrinkles he may have from his suit. "A banquet tonight, Melissa for the finest of Gotham. The richest, at least. You must make a great first impression on these people. Especially on one."

"Who?"

Jonathan looked to her. This was the best. What he was waiting for. "You can pick one. But find somebody. I'll tell you what to do tonight." He said as he turned to leave.

"But why?"

He didn't look back at her. "You haven't already forgotten our business deal, have you, Melissa?"

"No." She breathed quietly. Find him people to test on. Find him people that will have a very high chance at meeting death.

"Good." His voice cooed as he reached for the doorknob. "Oh. Before I forget-" He opened the door and looked back to her, "The man that I've told to escort you- I've also told him to do whatever is necessary… He has a gun on him at all times. Don't try to do anything foolish… We don't want people to get hurt, do we?"

"You mean- more than what is 'necessary'?"

He said nothing, but tilted his head to the side slightly with the stern, annoyed look in his eyes. After what seemed like a lifetime of the silent look, he answered- "That's right." He stepped out of the door, "Your clothes are on the couch… Be ready in twenty minutes." Jonathan pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

For five long minutes, Melissa sat in his large, warm bed with her knees pulled to her chest- the dark golden-colored comforter draped over her shoulders. She had been staring the door- waiting for him to come back in. He never did. Her eyes floated to the windows, well, actually the heavy maroon curtains that were pulled over the window.

Swallowing hard, she stood up and took a few cautious steps to the door. So far- nothing had happened. Only a slight dizziness, but nothing that she couldn't push aside. There was no lurching feeling in her stomach and chest that hinted nausea. She felt no pounding headache. Nothing. She could only hear her own breathing- heavy, slow, and deep. Licking her dry lips, her hand delicately reached for the doorknob and she twisted it. To her great alarm- it wouldn't open. She tried again- but no such luck. He locked her in his room! God only knows what his plans where for her when he returned!

"Oh…" She breathed as she twisted the knob to the other side, this time the door opened. She had been turning the knob the wrong way. "Oh." Melissa repeated shortly, blinking a few times, feeling foolish. "Right..." Melissa pulled the door opened and stared up the dark hallway. Up ahead though, in the room that linked onto the other end of the hallway- light poured into the room, onto the clean, pearly white carpet.

Rolling her shoulders, preparing herself for what may lie ahead- she stepped out of his bedroom and onto the soft carpet of the hallway and pulled the door shut behind herself. She willed her foot to move up the hallway, and they did. She passed three doors on the way- one on her left and two on her right- and hesitantly peered into each one of them The one on the left seemed to be a guestroom and a library. There was a large shelf of thick books along the wall, and on the other wall there was a neatly made bed. Directly across the hallway was a bathroom with a large mirror, marble-looking sink, toilet of course, tiled floor, and a porcelain tub. The next door was just a closet which was filled with nothing that seemed interesting.

Finally she had reached the main room- the living room. White, soft carpet, another shelf of books along a wall, a large (very large) television in a corner. A glass coffee table, with black wood going around the edge and making up the legs, was in front of the black furniture he had. A black couch, two black armchairs. There was even a fireplace- opposite of the bookshelf, which was unlit, but which was also white, with black swirls for a trimming.

There was a large patio door which had the black curtains pulled open and looked down upon the frosty city of Gotham. The city's park, along with the park's lake was in easy view. Beautiful view. In the far distance, the bay could be seen. But not the narrows. "Wow." Melissa breathed, her eyes gazing out of the patio doors.

"Yeah, I know." Came a rough and yet smooth voice from behind. A man's voice. He cleared his throat. Melissa spun around to him with wide eyes. His face was clean and smooth. His sandy-brown hair was shaggy but still neat as it fell in front of his hazel eyes. The man's skin was tanned. Could this be the man Crane had told her to escort her? He didn't look like the type that would be carrying a gun with him. Then again- he wasn't suppose to look like one that would. He had to trick the people along the way, and at the store that he was the charming type to take his girl to be fitted for an expensive dress for an expensive occasion. "Nice shack, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Melissa agreed with an eyebrow raised.

He nodded. "Crane told me to take you to get a dress- then wait here till he shows up."

"Right."

The man stayed silent for a moment, but then stared at her with that 'business' look. "He's told you what happens if you try anything, right?"

"Yeah." She nodded, shifting her weight to her other foot.

Just to make sure that she knew he meant it- he laid his black handgun on the white bar-counter he was leaning on. "Don't fool around, lass." He said warningly, "Wouldn't want to shoot a pretty darlin' like you… but I will. Don't think anybody would do anything about it. Corruption, you know. Money. Greed… Fear." A heavy silence fell between them. "The doctor is awfully good at that last thing." He let out a bark of a laugh. Melissa, not knowing what to do, also forced a laugh. A light, uncomfortable laugh. "You will be too from now on… Hopefully… Your clothes are right there, darlin'." He nodded to the couch behind her.

Melissa turned and looked- the same clothes she had been wearing when she walked into the Asylum… before she had met Jonathan.

"You better be getting ready." He said as he tapped his wrist, though he didn't have a watch on. Melissa nodded, as she headed down the hallway with her clothes in her arms. Before entering the bathroom, she heard him say, "You can call me Charlie by the way." Melissa took one last glance at him before stepping into the bathroom. Charlie was throwing on a gray, business-looking jacket on over himself.

Charlie put the gun on an inside pocket.

* * *

As they drove up the streets of up-town Gotham, Melissa stared out of the passenger window with her jaw slightly hung open in awe. Charlie glanced at her as they stopped at a red light, looked at her for a few moments with a half-grin, then looked out to the street ahead again. He shook his head and laughed.

Melissa looked to him with a scowl. "What?"

"You."

"What's so funny about me?" She asked bitterly.

"The way you're looking at everything… Reminds me of some kid looking in a toy-shop window. Like in movies and stuff."

Melissa looked up to the light. It turned green and the cars started moving again. Melissa shrugged as she looked back out the window. "Hardly have seen things like it…" The fancy cars, expensive looking stores, the wealthy shopping for lavish things. "I'd grown up in the Narrows…" Then she had been placed in a mental asylum. There really was no time to see this part of the city- where the wealthy played. To see the large houses in the distance in which they lived, past metal gates and fences.

"Yeah?" Charlie questioned, though he seemed to have already lost interest in their conversation. The only words they had spoken for the whole car ride. "Well… at least you and the doctor have one thing in common then."

She looked at him, head tilted to the side curiously. "Hmm?"

"Doctor grew up in the Narrows, too… Didn't you know?"

"No."

Charlie's brows furrowed for a second, but he shrugged as he turned a corner.

Melissa looked out the window as a soft snow started to fall from the sky. She had thought Jonathan Crane to be the son of the wealthy. Doctors or lawyers or something of the sort… But he had lived in the Narrows. In the hard, dark, dirty part of Gotham. That was something they both had in common…

What else could there be?

* * *

_And tune in...whenever... for the NEXT CHAPTER, which is lacking a title, but will be about the banquet/ Melissa's deal/ Crane giving a small tidbit to his own past to Melissa/ and much, much more!_


	9. Gotham Blitz, Part I

_A.N: I hope you appreciate the fact that… it's midnight! I'm writing for you! It'll be an awful morning because I stayed up to add a new chapter! I also put off my biology reports that are due tomorrow. Te-He-he… I mean, I was going to do that anyway but- but at least now there's an excuse. I had to be good to my readers. Thanks. No I'm not being sarcastic. This was a good distraction from doing my work._

_Well- read on:_

* * *

_Chapter 9:_

_**Gotham Blitz, Part I**_

* * *

"You're lookin' pretty good, girlie." Charlie said, glancing up to Melissa as she walked out of the hallway into the living room.

"_Melissa_." She breathed stiffly, turning her hold body to the side to stare out of the patio doors to the beautiful scene of Gotham. A soft snow had started to fall, snowflakes gentle falling from the sky that looked large and fluffy- likes balls of cotton. She licked her bottom lip as she looked back to Charlie- but his eyes were glued to the large television. The channel was on the a new-station of the city's.

"Yeah. Sorry." He said blankly, obviously not paying attention to her any longer. "Melissa." She frowned and scowled in frustration. Charlie had been charming and kind to her at times throughout the day- then at other times would ignore her all together, finding something more interesting to do than to listen or even look at Melissa. She let out a slow breath, as she cracked her knuckles with her sweaty hands. It was a nervous habit.

She moved across the white carpet, her dress brushing against the carpet softly as she walked toward the large, silver-framed mirror that was near the door. Her black hair was pulled into a neat bun, artfully sprites with glitter, with curls falling from the bun in just the right places to frame her face. A pale pink blush was softly dashed on her cheeks, and her eyes were heavy with make-up, and a cool red was painted onto her lips. Letting out a soft breath, she ran her hands down the dress.

The dress was one of a dark navy color that went perfectly with her eyes. It was a type of a halter top, with it's back cut low. The bottom of the dress flowed out softly and faded into a deep black the last few inches. The top- front of the dress hugged her chest perfectly, and was slightly low- revealing some of her chest. It seemed suggestive, but not trampish. At least- Melissa hoped it didn't. She dropped her head down- looking at her chest, thinking.

"What are you doing?" Charlie's voice suddenly asked.

"Wondering if they'll fall out or not."

"What?"

Melissa raised her eyes to look at his reflection in the mirror. She saw a slow grin spread across his face. She turned around fully to face him, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Charlie shut off the TV and then stood up, slowly advancing upon Melissa. When he reached her- he dropped his eyes down to her chest. Melissa scrunged her face in disgust and leaned away from him. Charlie looked to her eyes. "Ah, don't you worry about it, lass. Your breasts are perfect."

Melissa felt her cheeks burn and flush and she, in another nervous habit, lifted a hand to run through her hair. But before she had a chance to ruin her perfect, stylish hair- the door suddenly opened. Jonathan raised his eyebrows in surprise that both of them were standing so close to the door. His eyes shifted between the two of them, his head tilted to the side. He wet his lips and looked to Charlie, "No problems?" Jonathan glanced to Melissa for confirmation.

"No problems." Charlie said. Melissa shook her head and also said "No problems." Charlie looked and Melissa and nodded, "She's a smart one. Didn't try to do anything at all, did you, girlie? I mean Melissa. Yeah. She didn't try to run, to ask for help… anything." He said in a pleased tone, looking back to Jonathan.

"Good." Crane looked back to Melissa, "Let's go." He stepped out of the space of the doorway, holding it open for her. She walked through the door, then stopped in the hall, looking back to the two men. Charlie also walked out, but passed Melissa as he walked down the short hall to the Elevator. Melissa followed Charlie hesitantly, and Crane followed behind Melissa with his head high in confidence.

Once inside the elevator, Crane took a key from his pocket, and put it into the keyhole, turned it- then pressed the button for the main level. So Crane had some type of a penthouse? Melissa- in the asylum- couldn't really see Crane living in a house, but nor could she see him living in an apartment building with tons of others. A penthouse seemed to suit him. And, on the thoughts of suits- Melissa looked Crane from head to toe.

His hair was neatly combed back like it always was and his glasses were perfectly placed on the bridge of his nose. His suit was a deep shade of black, with a crisp white button-down shirt underneath. His shoes looked to be an equally dark shade of black leather. Italian Leather, Melissa thought blankly. He looked quite wealthy, important, classy. Well- more than usual anyway. Her eyes than wandered to Charlie- He had changed from earlier today- now he had on a black leather jacket that stopped about six inches above his knees, blue jeans, and regular tennis shoes. Obviously, he wasn't planning on going to the banquet with them.

When the bell dinged- Charlie stepped out and walked on ahead of them, with a lazy stroll out of the door and onto the street. Crane watched his henchman walk out into the snow- then looked back to Melissa, "He's bringing the car up." He informed her incase she hadn't figured it out. She nodded a few times, as she pulled on the black fur shall over her shoulders that went with the dress.

He put out his arm for her, offering it as he stared ahead to the door. When she didn't take it, he looked to her, "Melissa." He said firmly. She turned her face to his and his eyes met hers. "Appearances." He reminded her. Appearances must be maintained as to not raise suspicion. She took a breath, and held it in for a few seconds, then gently placed her hand on his arm. For a moment they stood like that- Melissa holding onto his arm, as they stared into each other's eyes, trying to grasp what the other was thinking.

Melissa was first to break the eye-contact as she looked ahead. Jonathan looked away as well, and began to walk to the front door with Melissa in tow of his arm. They stepped outside, and Melissa looked up into the snowy sky. She didn't have long to gaze up into though- for Jonathan had opened the door to the back and was nudging her inside. Melissa scowled and crawled into the car. Jonathan got in, sitting beside her, closing the door behind him. He looked up to the driver's seat as they pulled away from the sidewalk.

"I'm not sure how long it will take… I don't think it will be too long though. Just wait and watch. As soon as the person is out- get there and take them. We can't have any time wasted." Charlie nodded to Jonathan.

Jonathan then turned to Melissa to give her instructions, "Not too long." He repeated. "Don't drag it out to last all night… When you find a person- Do what you have to do, get them, and lead them outside to the back." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag with a small, pale blue tablet in it. "Give them this before going to the back though. Put it into a drink."

"What is it?"

"A simple sedation drug." He said briskly. "It causes the person be very groggy- eventually falling asleep… Once the person is starting to show the effects, which usually is after ten minutes or fifteen minutes- go out to the back, near the left end of the alley- by the fireescape. Charlie will be watching… The person will pass out from the drug after-" His voice wavered in thought, "A little more than fifteen minutes. It wavers in from patient to patient though…Once the person is out- Charlie will come, and when he comes- you come back to me."

"And then?"

"I'll take care of the rest." He said shortly as he looked out of the windshield. "Now run that back to me."

Melissa looked at Jonathan, then to Charlie, then back to Jonathan, "Find a person. Put the pill into the drink- then go outside. When the person is out- Charlie will come. Then I go back in to find you." Hearing that she understood the plan, Jonathan handed her the small plastic bag. "Stay with me until then." He said sternly. Melissa sighed and looked out of the window.

* * *

After a near forty-five minutes of silence, they pulled up to what looked like a redone warehouse. Pillars of lights were waving back and forth into the sky, multi-colored lights were flashing on the building in a sequence, a blood-red carpet, littered with glitter and confetti, was rolled up to the glass doors which were tinted black.

The doormen on each side were in black suits with bold red ties, black bowler-hats on their heads, and their eyes hidden by black masquerade masks with large red feathers sticking out of the sides. Beats of bongos and drums rumbled from deep inside the building- like a hunger in the belly of the beast.

Jonathan opened the door and stepped out, then held his hand out for Melissa's. She took it, with her mouth hanging open slightly in awe at the scene.

"I-" Melissa began as he began to lead her towards the door, "Didn't know a banquet could be… like this." It wasn't like a banquet for the wealthy. It seemed like a rave- except the beatings of drums replaced dizzying music- and every one was dressed in fancy tuxes and gorgeous dresses.

Jonathan gave a single laugh. Or maybe it was a scoff. It wasn't directed at her though- it was like a scoff of some sort of agreement.

The young doorman on the right bowed his head to the two of them, a charming smirk could be seen right below the mask.

"Welcome duchess and sir to-" He pulled open the large door, "the Gotham Blitz."

And with the encouragement of Jonathan giving a tug of his arm, Melissa stepped into a new world.

* * *

_A.N: If you needed a mental image or something- or how the drums are suppose to be like… While writing about it- I was thinking about that one Batman movie… With Poison Ivy and Mr. Freeze in it… You know? Or… something like it at least. Sorta._

_**Review**! It'll get me to add on my next chapter **F**aster- __Gotham Blitz, Part II_


	10. Gotham Blitz, Part II

**_Author's Note:_** _If you didn't see the 'notice', look on my profile page. My rambling thoughts of my fic, and other things, are on it. Also- Updates are on it at times... So if I fall behind in writing- Check on my profile page every so often for an update of why I haven't been writing... or... stuff. _

_And now, darlings, **Gotham Blitz, Part II**_

* * *

An hour later, Melissa's eyes were still filled with awe as she glided over the floor, hanging on Jonathan's arm as he led her from one person to the next. Her eyes were high up in the ceiling.

There was an acrobatic show that was happening- it seemed that hardly anyone else beside Melissa was paying attention to them. They'd swing back and forth on the metal bars- flipping and somersaulting in the air, then gripping hands or legs with the others. When hands were again gripped- they swung to the sides. Now the center of the air show was the tightrope walker- A girl with short, tight blonde curls was gracefully, slowly walking across, holding out a small laced umbrella at her side.

"Melissa?" Hearing Jonathan say her name tore her from her thoughts.

"This is Mrs. Lucile." Melissa looked up to see a middle-aged woman. To be polite, Melissa gave a smile. The woman nodded her head, but didn't return the smile. Melissa took a soft breath, and shrank her shoulders down, letting them drop from their previous tenseness.

"Nice to meet you, Melissa." The woman said blankly. She turned her head back to Jonathan and her lips flickered into what seemed to be a sad-excuse for an innocent smile. She raised her hand and rested it on his shoulder "It's always a pleasure, Idoctor/I." The woman looked between Melissa and Jonathan- and leaned closer. Melissa instinctively let go of his arm and stepped away so that she could walk through them. As she passed in between them, she let her hand slowly drag off of Jonathan's shoulder.

Melissa scowled after the woman, watching as she melted away into the crowd of Gotham's aristocrats. She clenched her teeth together beneath her lips, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth with annoyance. Why should she have to step away from Jonathan? Why couldn't the woman just walk on his other side? Why did she have to touch him?

She let the scowl melt off her face before turning back to Jonathan, "Who was that?"

"Mrs. Lucile? Her ex-husband was the son of the university's head administrator. And of course, after the divorce- she got a fine sum of money." Jonathan said as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. The acrobats were performing again. He drop his eyes to look out to the crowd that were dancing gracefully on the floor. His blue eyes looked to hers. "Care for a dance?"

Melissa stayed silent for a few seconds- then shook her head and said, "I can't. I don't know how to waltz. All I know is how to count the steps…1,2,3- 1,2,3." It had been a lesson in school years ago, in Gym, for a week.

"That's all you need to know."

Melissa shook her head, then looked back to the crowd. She saw Mrs. Lucile as a couple moved. The woman was looking at Jonathan again. Taking a small breath, she looked back to him- "I suppose we need to keep up appearances?"

"Of course." He bowed his head and put a smirk on his lips. Such a smirk that Melissa couldn't look away. She wondered what his lips were like. What they felt like- if they were soft. How they'd feel again her own lips. Melissa swallowed at the thought- trying to swallow back all of those thoughts. Finally- he looked away from her as he lead her to the center of the floor.

* * *

He stopped and turned his body to Melissa's. She stood there, seemingly frozen, as her eyes went to the other couples who were slowly and smoothly waltzing on the back-marble floor. Jonathan took a deep breath- to get her eyes back on him as he held one of her hands, placing his other hand on her hip. Melissa looked to their hands as she placed her free hand on his shoulder gently. 

She felt his hand press against her hip with more force, so she stepped back. Melissa let him lead as she thought about the steps, trying to concentrate about the counting and the rhythm and trying to ignore the different colored lights that would spin and shine all around the crowd in swift motions.

"Stop thinking." Jonathan said quietly and firmly, as he stared at her with his usual blank expression.

"What? I can't-"

"Stop thinking, Melissa. It'll only make things more difficult." He said, ending this short exchange of words between them. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize how true it was. She should stop thinking to make things easier, not only for the dancing- but for what they bargained for as well. It would be easier all around if she only accepted his words without a second hesitation- just like everyone else did, being so easily convinced by his collective manner.

And so, they continued in silence. Well- at least a few more moments were in silence before they were interrupted.

"May I cut in?" A bold voice asked with a firm tap on Jonathan's shoulder. Jonathan turned around to see who it was, stepping back next to Melissa with an arm still around her. Who was this planning on cutting it? Taking her away? Was it Alex Stevenson, who somehow managed to get through the doors? One of his men with a message for him? OR just some man who wanted a dance with Melissa. It only took a brief moment for his mind to clear, his eyes to focus on the man in front of him.

The man's eyes widened and his eyebrows raised his lips in a grin of delight. "Well it's Iyou/I!" The man scoffed, staring at Jonathan, shaking his head in disbelief. He cast his eyes to Melissa, "What's a girl like you doing with the Scarecrow?"

Melissa instantly felt Jonathan's arm tense up as he stared at the man with a loathing calm. "Roger Hagen." Jonathan greeted him in a low, stiff voice. Melissa looked between the two.

He seemed to ignore the fact that Jonathan had just said his name. He kept his eyes steadily on her- or rather, his wandering eyes were kept below her neck. She had the urge to look to Jonathan for assistance, but resisted as she smiled grimly, waiting for his eyes to return to her face. "Roger Hagen." He said crisply, looking back to her eyes as he put out a hand.

"Melissa." She said smoothly, putting her hand in his. Roger bowed his hand to kiss her hand. His lips stayed on her hand- longer than what was needed. Jonathan cleared his throat to get Roger's attention. He lifted his head from her hand, but still held onto it as he stood. He cocked an eyebrow with a smirk of delight, "Yes, _Scarecrow_?" Jonathan said nothing, but stared into Roger's eyes with a loathing.

"So-" He said as he pulled his eyes away from Jonathan's harsh gaze. "Would you like to dance, Melissa?" He tugged on her hand.

Melissa licked her lips, having another urge to look at Jonathan to check if she could. "Yes." And as soon as the word left her mouth, she was out of Jonathan's reach and pulled to a different area on the floor. Roger had pulled her body close to his and it made Melissa shiver- in a way that made Melissa sick. Roger though, thought that the shiver was in a good way- a way wonderful for him.

He smirked again, looking down to meet her eyes as his hand slipped an inch lower and further back on her hip_. 'Whatever's needed'_ she repeated in her mind. That was what Jonathan said. "So what are you doing with the Scarecrow?"

"Scarecrow?" She questioned as she looked over Roger's shoulder toward Jonathan. He was watching the two of them, his hands folded together behind his back. There was no expression on his face, but there was a heated look in his eyes as he turned away, to regard an old man trying to speak with him. Her eyes went back to Roger's.

"Yes." He nodded. "That's what we called him ever since elementary school. Me and- well everyone else." Then to answer he unasked question- "Well he was just always so skinny and the tall—then again he was scrawny. Always had clothes that had been patched up with a different material and pattern." He laughed out loud at the thought, "You know- Like a scarecrows?"

Melissa nodded and forced a laugh as well, pretending to share the amusement. When she was younger- some of her clothes had needed patching of which Melissa had taught herself how to do. Her mother had done it in earlier days- but then stopped slowly, and seemed careless about everything. The clothes she got were ill fitting as well, always a few sizes too big.

"He was always alone. Scarecrow was a creepy kid- and still is. Always walking and sitting alone. His face buried in a book. He was just too easy. We got a few kicks out of him." Melissa stared at him in silence. "Actually-" Roger laughed again, "More like a few kicks _in_ him." Roger grinned to himself- these seemed to be rather fond memories of the time. "So- why'd you come with him?"

"I saw no other way of coming." She said this quickly, then fell silent as he stared down to her. "And his name's Jonathan… I don't think he seems like a Scarecrow… I think he seems to know quite a bit, he's got money from all he knows."

"Money." Roger said with a grin and a nod, "I see. That's always what it is… A guy like Scarecrow and a girl like you." His fingers traveled up her bare back and Melissa felt her shoulders tense up again, feeling the urge to shove him off of her.

"Would you like a drink?" Melissa blurted.

"Would love one… But let me buy you one, beautiful." Roger said as his hand rested on her hip, pulling her to his side. "I know the best drinks." His eyebrows jumped once, and a smirk made its way to his lips as he lead her to the bar.

"They make for a _wonderful_ evening."

* * *

_The next chapter:_ May be a Part III,

or a whole new chapter. I'm not sure.


	11. Gotham Blitz, Part III

_Author's Note: I'd write an author's note about loving the reviews, and about this chapter and about the next chapter- But once again I've deprived myself of sleep to write this... Too tired. Mmph. But- Read on, my lovely readers._

* * *

**Chapter 11:**

_**Gotham Blitz, Part III**_

* * *

****

Roger leaned on the bar. Melissa stared at it with awe. It was a giant aquarium with fish of various colors freely swimming around it. Exotic-looking fish. There were a few neon lights placed in certain places under the aquarium, so that some of the fish would seem to glow when swimming above it.

"Two of the usual." Roger said to the bartender. The man nodded and turned his back to them. Melissa tried to stare at the fish and not at all give Roger a single glance.

The bartender turned around- setting two small glasses in front of them. Roger was looking out to the dance floor- the bartender had left them without a word. Hastily, Melissa reached down into the chest of her dress and pulled out the small plastic pouch. Quickly- making sure Roger wasn't watching- she dropped the pale blue tablet into his drink. As soon as it hit the drink, it began to dissolve. The small bit of fizz from it mixed with the fizz from the drink. So unsuspecting-looking.

The sounds of gasps made Melissa throw her head back to look to the ceiling. An acrobat was hanging onto the bar with a single hand. It appeared that he had almost fell to the floor far below. But he grabbed onto the bar- and swung himself back onto the bar, sitting on it. He waved to the crowd, and they clapped. It had been an act. When he finished waving- another acrobat did a multiple flips in the air- before holding onto the hands of another.

She smiled to herself, impressed and delighted by the show. "Melissa-" Roger said, holding her drink in front of her. She took it and forced a coy smile. Roger nodded, clinking his glass against hers, "Here's to the night." He said, before throwing the drink to his lips, swallowing in all in one gulp.

"To the night." Melissa echoed. She took two and a half drinks, the glass was nearly empty, but then froze. Something didn't taste right- even for some drink at a type o f 'club' banquet for the wealthy.

She lowered the drink, looking into the little bit left. Something small and white was left in the side of the drink. Roger pretended not to notice her discovery. Melissa's eyes widened in realization.

He had drugged her- just like she had drugged him. It had been mutual.

Melissa stared at him- and took a few steps forward, away from him. She could feel his eyes watching her. Jonathan. She had to find Jonathan. Where was he? Dancing, talking, sitting at a table with others? Roger wouldn't let her find him, would he? She looked over her shoulder at him. His head was cocked to the side, leaning against the aquarium bar- watching her with a smile.

Melissa looked back to the dancers- trying to see through them to find Jonathan. The dancers were moving in haze though and Melissa was unable to focus her eyes. She blinked her eyes feverishly- trying to find him. The swinging, flashing lights of reds and blues didn't at all help. It felt like the ground was shifting beneath her feet- like some sort of earthquake. No one else seemed to be paying attention to it.

It reminded her of when she was younger- In one of the small parks of Gotham. Spinning and spinning, with her arms out to her sides- staring up into the sky. But looking ahead of her- at the spinning planet, she'd suddenly feel unbearably dizzy and fall to the ground in a heap, laughing. The whole world would look as if it was tilting to the side. Though- if she fell now, they would be no giggles.

A huff of air escaped her rosy lips in distress, as she stumbled back into Roger who caught her around her waist. It made her skin call. His arms were around her waist, locking her close to him- his hot breath against her neck. A soft whine escaped her mouth in protest- her hands trying to pull his arms off of her, slowly trying to escape his arms. Her mind was fogged, as she tightly closed her eyes- wishing for Jonathan to come.

"Relax, Melissa..." Roger breathed into her ear, pressing his lips against her hair. He turned her away from the dance floor, "I guess that you couldn't handle the drink. It's quite strong." He said solidly. Melissa turned her head to him, struggling to stay on her feet. There was a smirk on his lips, his eyes were dancing with delight. "Some fresh air will do you good." He was already leading her to the back doors.

"Jonathan." Melissa whined.

He shook his head, "Don't worry, babe. I'll make sure that you have fun." He pushed the door opened and the chill of the winter hit her like a slap in the face. Roger paused for a moment-his arm weighting down onto his hips- his eyes staring down the alley. Melissa begged for the drug the she gave him to be kicking in. She hoped that Charlie would come soon.

Roger again shook his head before pulling her down the alley, before coming to stop near an large garbage bin. He pushed Melissa against it and the cold metal against her bare back made her gasp. He tightly held her wrist in one hand, his other on her neck. He lowered his neck to the other side of her neck, kissing it. Melissa tried to push him away- but her arms felt nearly too heavy to lift, more or less push someone who was bigger than her away. Roger's grip on her wrist loosened, and he pulled his head away from her neck.

He blinked a few times, his head lolling forward a bit. His hand that was on her neck slid to her shoulder- growing heavy. Melissa could feel herself slowly beginning to sink to the dirty ground beneath his hand- he was slowly going lower as well. The tablet that she put in his drink was kicking in- rapidly. She finally felt herself resting against the ground- Roger slowly coming to his knees in front of her, leaning against her for support.

She felt her eyes grow heavy, and they even sank down briefly. She forced them open to look at Roger. He was out could. With a groan, she slowly lifted her heavy eyes to the sky above. There was a fire escape. Swallowing hard- she turned her head to see a man in black leather jacket- nearly to the knees- and with a black winter stocking pulled over his head bustling towards them. Charlie.

He pulled Roger off of Melissa- letting him drop to the alley ground before glancing to Melissa.

"Good job." Charlie compliment as his hands searched the man's suit. Charlie pulled out his wallet- pulling the money that was in it out and stuffed it into his own pockets. Melissa slowly nodded. His voice was distant. It took her a few moments to comprehend his words. He turned his attention to Melissa. "Here-" He said as he grabbed onto her hands, pulling her to her feet- letting her lean against the wall.

Charlie stood near the man, and put his hands under his arms- half-lifting him and half-dragging him back to the car at the end of the alley. He looked at Melissa, "We'll be at the factory."_ 'We'll' _We'll who? Charlie and Roger? Charlie and a few other of Jonathan's henchmen? Was he telling her of the next plans? Charlie didn't seem to notice her confusion as he pulled Roger further away. "Go tell the doctor-" He said in amusement, "- That he's needed in room one." He grinned and looked up to Melissa.

"Wasamatter with you, lass?" He asked- but then he laughed. "I mean _Melissa_. One too many drinks?" When Melissa gave no reply- the grin died as he pulled open the door of the car. He lifted the man into the backseat- shoving him in- then slamming the door. Charlie opened the driver's door and climbed in- but he left the door open as he stared at Melissa.

"Well go on- Go tell 'im." He said with a slight scowl.

Melissa turned, leaning against the wall as she stumbled back to the door. She heard the door of the car slam shut and the engine start. Slowly the car pulled away. Melissa looked over her shoulder to watch it go. That wasn't a good idea... Looking behind herself as she stumbled to the door with a hazy mind- in a dress. Her foot caught onto the front of her dress, tripping her to the wet ground.

For a brief moment- she stayed on her hands and knees, feeling too weak to push herself up. Melissa lowered herself closer to the ground, letting her head rest against it, her eyelids growing heavier than before. Sounds becoming more distant. Her breathing was growing slower.

"Hey!" A voice shouted. It seemed like it was miles away- but only a second later she felt two pairs of hands, grabbing her arms gently but firmly, pulling her to her feet.

"Can you hear me?" A different voice asked- her cheek was being tapped.

"Drunk, most likely." The first voice dismissed.

An unsure "Mph." Was the reply. Now she felt her whole body being lifting. Someone was carrying her. Being carried in someone's arms- it felt like she was floating.

"Alright, Alright- give her some room to breathe. Nothing to see here. Go back to your party." The first voice said loudly, roughly.

"Miss- Can you hear me?" The gentle second voice asked again. A door of a car was opened.

Melissa gave a weak "Mmm." The arms set her in the seat. She let her head rest against the back of the seat. Someone crawled in beside her. The door closed and an engine was started. She opened her eyes slightly to look out of the window. A few people were standing outside- staring at the car. The doormen were still standing in their places- masks still on, the smirk still on the lips as their hands were folded behind there backs. The door opened- and Melissa shifted her gaze to who just stepped out.

Jonathan. Their eyes met for a split second before the car pulled away- Jonathan out of view. Exhaling deeply, Melissa turned to look at the man next to her. More specifically- at his chest for every streetlight the car passed under- there was a glinting. A star. Melissa closed her eyes, resting her head against the window. She could vaguely make out what was happening. She knew a few things though, but was too groggy to react...

Jonathan probably won't be very happy. The man sitting next to her was a cop. The man in the front seat, who was at the wheel, was most likely a cop, too. She was in a police car- being taken to the station.

But she had no time to worry because in the moment- she was deep in a slumber.


	12. A Psychologist’s Opinion

Author's Note:_ Sorry for the wait. Been busy with the end of the semester and whatnot. Hopefully this makes up for it though._

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**Chapter 12:**

_A Psychologist's Opinion_

* * *

He said nothing on the drive to the Gotham Police Station besides a few mumbled curses. His fingers tapped against the armrest, falling heavy in annoyance and frustration. His furious blue eyes gazed out of the front of the windshield, his jaw jutted out and set. Jonathan didn't bother glancing to the thug next to him, driving the sleek car, and nor did he glance to Jonathan. He knew better than that.

The driver had also been at the banquet, acting as Jonathan's ears and eyes when he was too preoccupied making an appearance. He was the one that was to drive Jonathan to the factory after Melissa told him that the plan went smoothly. She didn't tell Jonathan though- there had been a rough spot with the plan. It was Jonathan's guess that Roger had drugged her.

In their high school days, Roger had been taken to court on the accusation of a date rape. Actually, it had been more than once, but he was always found innocent. Roger's father had connections with the jury and the judge. Nothing more was to be expected in a city of corruption though. And as they drove under the streetlights, Jonathan's mind kept flashing to images of Roger's unconscious body lying on the metal table, strapped in. With those thoughts in mind, Jonathan could feel an invisible hand clenching his chest tightly. The Scarecrow was quite pleased that he now had another person in the basement of the factory, ready for testing, ready to give that person what they justly deserve.

The thug had apparently seen Melissa being carried by a cop to a police car. He had bustled through the crowd to find Jonathan, reporting on what he saw. Before Jonathan knew it, he was outside the door just in time to see Melissa in the car as it pulled away. After that, his memory of the situation got blurry in the rush to get Melissa. Though he had threatened her- it was still possible that Melissa would tell someone at the station what happened. What the infamous Dr. Jonathan Crane was doing in experiments. It was possible that the person Melissa would tell would be an idealist. They get in the way and cause bumps in plans. They can always be taken out of the picture, of course, but not without a few questions raised. It was better to get Melissa before she had a chance to tell what happened.

The car stopped in the parking lot of the police station. Jonathan looked down to his clothes to smooth them out, his tongue running over his lips as his mind was clouded with the Scarecrow trying to show through, "What the fuck was he thinking?" Jonathan spat finally, smacking his fist down onto the dashboard. The driver looked to him, but stayed silent. He knew this was not a question to answer. "Why didn't Charlie fucking wait until Melissa was _inside_ the building before leaving?" Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. Though the question wasn't to be answered, he looked to the thug with a questioning, annoyed, expecting look.

He obviously had no clue was to say. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and closed. He opened his mouth and finally came an- "I don't know, sir."

* * *

From the corner of his eyes, Alex saw a younger girl in a dark blue, upclass type of dress. A man had one arm around her waist and the other on her arm, leading her up from the hall of cells into the main part of the station. She looked quite roughed up and pale- but still beautiful. The man were a tuxedo, his hair combed back out of his face- though a few strands were falling in front of his piercing eyes. The girl's head was resting on his shoulder, as she moved slowly towards the door with him. The mans lips moved and the girl's expression was strained for a second or two, before trying to groan a reply. 

Alex continued to watch, ignoring the cops question as he sat at the desk. He had drove here, bustling in the door, saying that his sister had been kidnapped. When asked where she last one, Alex hesitated before telling them 'Arkham Asylum'. He told them her name- and they called the Asylum. The cop had hung up the phone, stared at Alex, telling him that there were no records. Alex tried to explain that he knew that she had been there and that he knew that something happened to her. The cop then began asking if he had recently been drinking or taking a drug of some sort.

His eyes followed them as the couple walked through the room. The girl seemed familiar in some way. Alex squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at the girl. Suddenly, like a slap in the face, he realized who it was. Melissa.

"That's her!" His voice cried desperately to the cop that was questioning him. "There she is! That's her! Melissa!" He pointed to her. She was being led to the door by a man. Alex looked back to the cop who had a skeptical look on his face. The cop wasn't even looking. "_That's her_!" He shouted loudly, causing the few around him to look with questioning stares.

Finally the cop turned in his chair to look at who ever he was pointing to. "Get her! Arrest him!" Alex shouted again. The cop gave a slight laugh, saying, "Dr. Crane…" He cast a sideways glance to Alex, "He's the head of Arkham Asylum. How convenient."

"I'm not crazy!" The desperate look in his eyes said otherwise. The cop only smirked at him. With an angry 'Argh!' He shoved the chair back and leapt away from the desk before the cop could react. He ran, nearly flew, to the other side of the room to grab her, not bothering who he bumped into.

She looked groggy and gave a slight groan, being led by Dr. Crane. His icy eyes flew to Alex with fury, and he held Melissa close to him, turning his back to Alex to keep his hands away from her. He held her tighter, bracing himself for Alex's pounce. There was a few tangled shouts and grunts, and a heavy _thud_ to the floor. Jonathan turned his head over his shoulder and saw, with satisfaction, that Alex was on his stomach on the floor, two policemen holding him down. Alex shouted loudly, trying to flail against their hands.

"My sister- She's mine- Melissa!" Could be heard in between the shouts and the grunts. Alex was being put in handcuffs. The two cops harshly pulled him up, a third cop- the one that had been questioning him earlier- shouted "Book him!" and the two lead him down a hallway. Alex put up a fight, trying to jump out of the grasps, screaming loudly, shouting Melissa's name. He fell to the ground, trying to wrestle his way out of their grips. The two cops only dragged him down the hall.

"Sorry about that, Doctor." The cop that had been questioning Alex, walked up to Jonahan and Melissa, taking his hat off to rub his head.

"Oh- no problem." Jonathan smiled. "Thank you for responding so quickly. I'd hate to think what would've happened…" He looked back to Melissa, putting on a look of fondness.

"Well…" The cop said sheepishly with a grin, looking to Melissa who was still wrapped in Jonathan's arm. She seemed oblivious to what just happened. His eyes looked back up to Jonathan, "Do you think that… maybe you could come back tomorrow morning- or sometime in the day- to come back and look at the young man… you being a psychologist and whatnot. I'm, uh- I'm not sure the man is in the right state of mind."

Jonathan gave a few understanding nods, "How long have you been questioning him?"

"He's been here since about eight thirty this evening. Says that she was a patient at your asylum. No record of him. He says that he hadn't been on any drugs or drinking. We did a few tests- he wasn't. Seemed completely healthy. But he stuck to his story. I was thinking… well, I think it'd be best to have a psychologist's opinion."

Jonathan gave a single nod, and replied smoothly, "Of course, officer. I can be here at ten. I think I should be getting her home though." He glanced to Melissa, indicting her. The cop nodded and said a "Good night" Then returned to his desk as Jonathan lead Melissa to the door.

* * *

He opened the passenger's side of the car, carefully sitting Melissa in the seat. Jonathan seat-belted her in, glaring at the driver of the car. He nodded towards the windshield with a 'get out of the car' look. The man got out, silently closing the door behind him. Jonathan leaned out of the car, and closed Melissa's door silently. For a few moments, he gazed at her through the window, regarding her. 

Exhaling a slow breath, he turned his head to look at the thug, waiting infront of the car with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Jonathan turned away from the door to walk to the hood, standing infront of him.

"Get Collins. Tell him I need to speak with him." He breathed through clenched teeth. Collins was another one of Jonathan's thugs- the one that was working at Arkham for Jonathan. The one that had called to first warn of Alex Stevenson. Jonathan told him to watch Alex- making sure that he didn't tell anyone about Melissa. "I'm taking Melissa home and then I'll be at the factory." And without another word, he pass the thug and moved to the driver's side of the car and got in.

The man pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, turning away from the car that was backing out of the parking space.

Jonathan drove in silence, his face clouded with anger. Charlie left when Melissa was in the alley- not making sure that she made it back into the building. Alex was at the station, calling to Melissa- Collins better have a good excuse to way this happened. Roger had drugged Melissa at the Banquet. Melissa had been taken into the police station- luckily it was nothing worse… But why didn't he keep his eyes on Roger and Melissa?

Melissa sighed distressfully in her sleep and Jonathan glanced to her. "Alex" It was soft, in a whining whisper. Jonathan looked back to the road, stopping at a stoplight. "Jonathan-" Even softer, in an unleveled, wavering voice. Jonathan decided to answer- even though she obviously wasn't fully awake.

"Yes, Melissa?" There was no reply, Jonathan paid no attention to it though- figuring that she fell into a deeper slumber. And the light turned green, and Jonathan turned the corner, Melissa finally answered.

"…I killed him…" She sounded like she was going to cry.

"What?"

"Mommy should've been… happy." She let out a sob of a breath, her head leaning against the headrest, her eyes closed.

He pulled to the back parking lot of the housing building he lived in- it would attract less attention. The attention that _was_ attracted could be brushed off with a laugh and a 'Too much to drink'. Jonathan looked to Melissa, waiting for her to something more- but nothing else was said. She slept soundly. He dropped his hands off of the wheel, turning off the engine. "It'll be alright. Everything will."

He'd make everything work out finely. Collins and Charlie would not again slip up. Melissa wouldn't have to look at Roger again. Alex Stevenson would not be allow to interfere with his plans. His toxin would be perfected. He'd make everything work out… He was Dr. Jonathan Crane, after all.


	13. You'll be Knocked Down

**Author's Note:** This chapter title I took from that song '_If you want to step up, step up- you're going to get knocked dow_n'. I don't own the song. I forgot who did though. Forgot the title of the song, too. Don't own it though...

Sorry for the wait. Been busy. Still busy... But I just had to update... Enjoy.

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**Chapter 13:**

_You'll Be Knocked Down_

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Pushing open the old, large wooden door, he walked into the dimly lit factory.

The floor was littered with broken glass, rusty objects, random papers, bird feathers, broken bottles, everything that a person would expect to find on the floor of an abandoned factory. Because of that, maybe they'd stroll around out of curiously for a short time, but finding nothing of interest, would turn and leave. They'd leave before walking deeper into the factory, find a door that lead to a staircase, which led to the basement. The basement was the room of interest. This room though, the entrance level, wouldn't at all be boring if a person would happen to walk in at this time. There were large, scruffy men in black standing with guns near the center of the room.

They all fell silent, looking to Jonathon as he entered the room, letting their guns drop to their sides. They backed out of the small circle they were previously in, allowing Jonathan to see Charlie. Charlie, without a gun, stood with his arms folded across his chest. Jonathan turned his piercing, harsh glare to Charlie who met him with his shoulders squared and jaw set. His posture was like he was challenging Jonathan. It was not at all amusing.

Jonathan closed the circle, stopping a good ten feet away from Charlie. Charlie said nothing, not daring to look away. The other men were staring between the two in silence, waiting. It reminded Jonathan of being in class when a disagreement between a teacher and student broke out. The teacher wouldn't give in and the student wouldn't step down while everyone else in the room glanced unsurely between the two, at each other, or down at their books. The silence was heavy and the tension was thick, but nothing was happening. They were each waiting for the other to say something.

The man who Jonathan ordered to find Charlie shifted from foot to foot, cleared his throat and asked, "How's Melissa?"

"Fine." Jonathan answered flatly, staring at Charlie still, "She's sleeping."

"Why isn't she here?" Charlie finally asked, his brows sinking into a scowl. "She's suppose to be with us. Helping us. You left her at your place though? What if she tells someone?"

"I doubt she would. We made a deal about it. I've got it all covered."

"And if she would?"

Jonathan moved his briefcase to his other hand, "I'd kill her."

Charlie scoffed. "No you wouldn't."

"Excuse me?"

"You've gone soft on her. An eight-fucking-teen year old." Complete silence from the others now. "Though we've all got needs as men, don't we?" Charlie smirked and looked to the others for agreement, but he received no replies. The smirk melted into the silence and Charlie looked back to Jonathan, still refusing to step down. "The girl knows what those needs are. With that slutty dress which you picked out, right? I saw her in the alley with Roger. Down on the ground with him." He scoffed again, "Whore."

Jonathan's knuckles were now white, gripping so tightly onto the handle of his briefcase. He felt his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He could feel the heat rising up his back, along his spine, to his neck, his head. The Scarecrow laughed madly in his mind.

Jonathan cracked his jaw, rolling his shoulders back. "Tell me Charlie, you're father's in the old folks' home just about a half an hour away from here, isn't he?" The cocky expression on Charlie's face died. "He doesn't have a clue to who you are, right? Your own father has no clue who you are..." Jonathan knew about the men that worked for him. About their reliability, their pasts, their families. He tilted his head to the side, in the doctoral manner, and asked, "What sort of outcome do you think he'd have if he was injected with my little toxin?"

Charlie fell silent, his face paler than a moment before. Jonathan walked closer to him, "You follow my orders... Do not question me, Charlie for the sake of yourself and your family. Have a little compassion. " Jonathan looked to the rest of the thugs with the 'the same goes for all of you' expression. They belonged to him as long as he needed them. There would be no mutiny from his thugs. He had the toxin, he always did. The Scarecrow was always with Jonathan. Always. Jonathan was a quick thinker. He was a psychologist- he knew more about their minds than they did. It was a dangerous weapon. If they wanted to try their luck with him- so be it.

"You two come with me, you four stay up here... Charlie... I think it's best that you leave for tonight. I don't believe I'll be needing you."

Jonathan walked past Charlie, towards the opposite end of the factory, with the two following behind him at a safe distance. Jonathan pulled open the door without a single glance back and walked down the creaky steps to the basement floor. Roger was strapped to a table, stirring every few moments, softly groaning.

Jonathan stood at the bottom of the steps, staring at Roger with his head to the side. This was one of the bullies he had endured throughout school. Taunting, teasing, traps, threats, brutal beatings. The same bully that stayed with him through college years with the same routine with a few new things added in. This was the one that had drugged Melissa,_ his_ Melissa, and had planned on doing God knows what to her. Innocent Melissa. Melissa... his ex-patient who had killed her parents. Delicate state of mind she had. Her foster brother wanted to take her away from Jonathan. He was in jail now though, awaiting psychologic analysis from Dr. Crane. Charlie had been questioning Jonathan. Insulting Melissa. Insulting his plan. Doubting him. The night was wearing on Jonathan and yet he needed to continue on. He_ wanted_ to.

Jonathan looked up the steps to the two thugs, still with their guns in hand, looking back at Jonathan, waiting for him to tell them one to do. "Stay at the bottom." He told the one on the right. He was sick of all the talking. All of the noise. He just wanted some silence. Just for a while. Some silence to collect his thoughts... Looking back to Roger, he addressed the one on the left.

"Gag him."


	14. Welcome to Arkham

_Author's Note: Hopefully this makes up for the long wait. Sorry for the typos I know I've got._

_Read. Enjoy. Review._

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_**Chapter 14:**_

**Welcome to Arkham**

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It goes without saying that Jonathan Crane easily made the interfering Alex Stevenson seem crazy. Crazy, insane, delirious, and everything on those terms. It didn't take much effort or much time. It all went fairly briefly. Two hours was all it took– at most. Dr. Crane was a very talented doctor and an even better at persuading. Persuading the officers that Alex was crazy... persuading Alex himself that he was crazy.

Dr. Crane sat across from Alex in the plain questioning room, a cop standing in the corner of the room with his arms folded. Dr. Crane had his files and papers on the table as he filled in the boxes, spaces, and information on the forms. His briefcase stood at the side of his chair. Crane would asked a question, and Alex would nervously blurt out an answer. Crane would glance up at him over the rim of his glasses in a curious, questioning way, glance to the officer, look back Alex with and reply with an, "I see... interesting." Or sometimes it was "Tell me more about it, Alex." Though he'd say it in the tone of voice that would make any sane person nervous.

Alex fiddled with his pants, his breaths quick and shallow as Crane finished questioning him and began to look over the papers. There was really no need for Dr. Crane to look over the results to analyze them. He already knew what he was going to say about Alex. He was crazy and needed help. Dr. Crane is there to help. When a few minutes past, Crane stared at the last page, pretending to be absorbed in his thoughts. There was a apologetic look he put on his face as he looked back to Alex. Alex's eyes were as wide, his breathing becoming faster. Dr. Crane adjusted his glasses before looking to the officer in the corner. Then Dr. Crane looked over his shoulder to the wall that he knew others were watching from behind it. Obviously it would be a double-way. He looked at the wall to make sure he'd have their full attention before turning back to Alex.

He tapped the bottom of the papers on the tabletop, straightening them before putting them into a folder, then slipped that into his briefcase. "I find that you, Alex– that Alex Stevenson–" He announced the name out loud, he knew the routine, "are mentally unstable." Alex pushed himself away from the table, already in a panic. "I find it to be in your best interests–" Crane did not pause even as Alex stumbled out of his chair to the door. The cop lunged after him even though the door was locked, "if you'd be placed into Arkham Asylum–" Alex was beginning to shout now, flailing against the officer, "Where you can be best observed and better helped." Dr. Crane finished as other police-officers came bustling into the room.

Dr. Crane stood from the table, straightening his jacket, and picked up his briefcase as he strode towards the door, completely ignoring Alex being wrestled to the ground in the corner. He met the chief in the hallway. "Arkham Asylum." He said simply. "I'd appreciate it if you'd have an officer drive us to the institution. I'll make sure a team is waiting outside by the time we arrive." With the white long-armed jackets, sedation shots, and etc., etc.

"Of course, doctor. I'll get one of my men to do it right now." Crane nodded his head in gratitude.

* * *

The cop car stopped at the front entrance of the asylum. Jonathan Crane stepped out of the passenger's side unto the pavement. There were three men and one women waiting from them as he stepped out. "Doctor." The women cheerfully greeted Jonathan as he walked closer to them with an honest smile. Jonathan returned it with a pleasant look, "Nurse." He greeted her. Two of the three men stepped towards the police car, as the third one waited by the doors, a needle and syringe in hand.

"This is the one, hm?" The nurse asked as she watched the one of the men grab a kicking Alex out of the car. The second one had been holding a straight-jacket, and was now having a time strapping it onto him. "That's too bad, so young... Well, at least he's here where he can be properly taken care of."

"Yes." Jonathan agreed as he moved his briefcase from his right hand to his left. The third man now stepped forward, injecting Alex with the sedative. Alex's movements were rapidly slowing down. The nurse fell silent as she watched the two men leading Alex into the asylum. Exhaling a breath, she looked back to Jonathan, "Did you want me to take his files off your hands?"

He shook his head, "That's alright. I'm going to look over them back in my office."

"Oh!" The nurse suddenly cried, obviously remembering something important. Jonathan turned to her with his eyebrows raised in a 'yes?' way. "There is a man waiting for you in your office, Doctor." She blushed at having forgotten. He nodded his head. "He came to the desk, asking for you, but you had been gone. He said he'd wait for you."

"He's in my office?" Dr. Crane questioned as he and the nurse entered the hospital. His brows were furrowed as he looked ahead of them. He wasn't sure if he was pleased someone was, without his knowledge, sitting in his office. Dr. Crane had important files locked up, of course, but it was the principle of the matter.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Crane." The nurse apologized. "I suppose there really isn't a good reason to why he is. He insisted to wait in your office until you're return. Seems as if he's got important matters to discuss with you. He wouldn't hint any to the other doctors or nurses though."

"Alright." Dr. Crane said after a moment of silence, "His name?"

"Ra's Al Ghul, I believe." The nurse said unsurely. "But... I should be attending to the third floor at second floor at this time, if you need anything–" She said as she began to turn a corner to an elevator.

"Of course." Jonathan said in a way to wave her off. She got onto the elevator as Jonathan looked ahead to Alex stumbling between the two men. Adjusting his glasses, Dr. Crane followed them as he held himself up in the dignified way. Alex was moved to the third floor's east wing. The men lead him into his room, sitting the groggy Alex down on his bed. They were about to shut the door when Jonathan told them to stop– he wanted a few words with Alex. They shrugged and left the doorway and the hallway. Dr. Crane walked into the room, stopping right infront of the bed, staring down at Alex.

"She's- She's my sister. She _was_ here. " He quietly slurred, barely unable to keep his eyes opened. "W-Where is she? W-Where's my Melissa?"

Jonathan continued to stare at Alex in silence for a few moments. "She's your foster sister, Alex. Don't you fret about where she is, either." Alex now struggled to keep his eyes opened as he looked up to Dr. Crane at hearing him admit that Melissa wasn't actually something he made up. "She's staying we me, Alex. She isn't yours, any longer. She is mine. She's mine, she's my worker, she's... is simply no longer yours. Speaking as your new doctor, Alex, I think it'd be best for you to just forget her."

Alex shook his head slowly, "Not yours... Mine... Melissa's family... Never forget...her..." His words were becoming further apart as the drug sank deeper into his system.

"Well, I'm sorry then, Alex." Dr. Crane said in a low but in a clear domineering voice, "If that's your final decision..." Dr. Crane paused as his eyes flickered an emotion of pure delight, as the scarecrow danced in his eyes:

"Welcome to Arkham."

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_Author's Note: So I decided this fic will be pre, pre-during movie. I don't think it will play a big part of the fic though... Just mentions of events that happened in the movie every now and then, maybe._

_Review!_


	15. Doctor's New Order

**Author's Note:** I would've had this posted quite some time ago, but problems happened. Then I solved them. So-- Here. It's mostly about... well, thoughts of Melissa on the matters of Jonathan and of her new job. And whatnot. Felt like informing you.

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**Chapter 15:**

Doctor's New Order

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Melissa sat on the balcony porch, staring to the streets far below. It had been two weeks and three days since she had left the Arkham Asylum. Actually, to be more exact, two weeks and three days since she had been kidnaped from the asylum. There would be moments were Melissa would forget. She'd forget about having been a patient at the asylum. She'd forget that Jonathan had been Dr. Crane. She'd forget that she'd meet with him during the weeks of being placed in the institution. What bothered her, most of all, was that she was forgetting all about Dr. Crane.

She'd forget throughout the day that he had taken her on her last night at the hospital. She'd forget that she had begged him not to inject her with his toxin. She'd forget how seeing him, back as a patient, would make her worry. She had always been worried and nervous while in his presence. There just had been a certain sense about him. The way that he'd look at her would make her lungs stop breathing, make her heart pound loudly, and make her mind jump from one thing to the next. The way had never, to her knowledge, been an inappropriate look. Her feelings as he would look at her were never joyful. As a patient, as his patient, she always tried to look anywhere but. Especially at his eyes. They were enough to make her feel as if she was being judged, as if she really was insane to a point of no-return, they were enough to make her fear him.

But now, "Dr. Crane" was no more. Now it was simply "_Jonathan_". Now his presence was something else. Maybe it was because she knew of his plans? Knew of his plans for his toxin? Maybe it was just because she worked for him? Love? Melissa nearly laughed at the thought. How could she love him? How could he love her? Melissa hardly knew what to even think of the word. The thought of Jonathan knowing the true meaning of the word was laughable. No. Love was completely unthinkable. It was laughable. Lust? When the word "lust" entered her mind, she only scoffed as her eyes followed a couple that was walking the sidewalks.

If there was anybody of Jonathan's crew, or Jonathan himself, that she could see herself "lust" over, it'd mostly be Charlie. Charlie was handsome without a single doubt. He was humorous and kind to her at times. There were other times though. Those other times were the times that Melissa was sure Charlie was about to murder somebody. His mouth was always smarting off in one way or another. Some of his comments to her made him out to be a sleezy man. Then there was that stupid smirk he'd get on his face after it. He'd make the kind and sleezed-up comments in front of the rest of Jonathan's henchmen. At least they didn't encourage it. They'd roll their eyes and bark at him to "Shut-up". For the most part, he would– being disheartened by the rest of the men. There were few times that he wouldn't. Those drunken phases that he'd move closer to Melissa, slurring words into broken sentences, chuckling every now and then. Melissa would begin shouting threats to him and the other men would turn and shout at him to stop and leave her alone– that was enough to get Jonathan's attention. That's when Jonathan was forgotten and Dr. Crane returned. He'd calmly tell Charlie off, making calm, collected threats with hints of the Scarecrow. That was always enough to sober Charlie up. And speaking of the devil:

"Hey Melissa-" Charlie stuck his head out of the patio door, "Crane told me to tell you that he'd very much appreciate if you got him somebody tonight."

Melissa nodded. In only two weeks and three days, she had already become accustomed to the routine. "Alright then... Are you going to becoming with me?" He usually did to load the drugged-up person into the car to drive to the factory. Melissa had seen the factory only three times to deliver the poor lab-rat to Jonathan. The second time she had visited it, she couldn't help but congratlate Jonathan. The factory he had chosen was so... unsuspecting. The last place a person would expect to find that type of testing to be happening. He gave a single laugh, nodding as he too looked around the factory, appreciating her comment and appreciating his choice of building.

"No, love... Doctor's orders."

"What?" Melissa put a questioning look on her face, "What do you mean? What did he say?"

"Mph." Charlie replied with a shrug, looking out to the harbor. "Can't say. Crane didn't really say much on the matter. Nothing for you to worry about, though." He looked back down to her.

"So what am I suppose to do with the rat?" Melissa demanded. "Rat" had slipped out of her mouth. Maybe it had been because she compared the people she got with lab-rats and... having the personality of a "rat". When Melissa choose people for Crane, it was most likely an outcome of death for them. Because of that, Melissa tried to find people that were... well, rats. She'd also sneak in questions about family. Most that she had chosen were those that weren't at all concerned about the welfare of their family.

One of the first persons that Melissa got for Jonathan was a man that was in his mid or late twenties. When she asked of family, he said that he had a girlfriend that was due in a few weeks. At that, Melissa was ready to begin her search again. But he continued speaking, his words holding her to him. He told her that she was constantly "bitching", as he said, about money issues. The man saw no money-problems since the girl was living with her parents that were pretty well-up on money. He told Melissa that the girl was only meant to be fling, one of many, of his. After taking a drink, the man laughed, damning his girlfriend and unborn child to hell, because he didn't care. He called his girlfriend a slut and said that the kid probably wasn't even his. Melissa forced her lips into a smile and nodded her head in agreement. Then, as soon as he looked away, the drug went into his drink.

"MELISSA?" Charlie asked loudly. Melissa was snapped out of her thoughts. "I said that Crane said that you can just bring him back here... You just give this to the person." He gave he a very small vile of a clear liquid that had a tint of blue. "After that, they'll probably be knocked out after fifteen or twenty minutes. How long really depends on how much you give them. A quarter of it will three hours. Half is six hours. Three quarters is twelve. All of it is fifteen hours... A quarter or a half should probably be good enough."

"Alright... But, why doesn't Jonathan just spend somebody else with me, then?"

Charlie shook his head, "I don't know, love. Just stop asking so many questions. It isn't good." When Melissa continued to stare at him with a slightly confused look on her face, Charlie answered– "Crane doesn't like so a lot of questions. He doesn't really like to be asked questions. _He_ likes to be the one that's asking..."

"Right. He's a psychologist, after all."

"Yeah... y'know what? I think working in Arkham messes with him. I think he's been losing it a bit, lately." Charlie laughed, "It's like being insane is contagious."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The next chap is going to be a short brief about Melissa finding Jonathan somebody. That chap will be an opening for some... "dramatic" type of events following. Stay tuned.

The next chap is going to be a short brief about Melissa finding Jonathan somebody. That chap will be an opening for some... "dramatic" type of events following. Stay tuned. 


	16. On the Prowl

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**_Chapter 16:_**

**On the Prowl**

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Melissa wore a tight black turtleneck sweater as she walked down the streets of Gotham City. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of the navy vest she had pulled over the sweater. It violently brought out the color of her eyes as they flickered from one person to the next. She really had no preferences for the person to be a man or woman. The majority that she brought back to Jonathan were men though. They seemed to be the easiest for Melissa to get...

A few moments of eye-contact, touching their shoulders or arms gingerly, and that gentle but hinting smile. After that, it was "hook, line, and sinker". They just went down. Dropped lie flies. Only twice Melissa brought women back to Jonathan. One had been a prostitute that had tried to pick-pocket Melissa... not that she had any money with her, but it was the principle of the situation. The women simply needed to be taught a lesson. That was how Melissa saw it. Jonathan's serum provided for excellent punishment. The second women was some ill-dressed, dirty, drug addicted. She was strung out when Melissa found her. Sunken and bloodshot eyes, deathly pale yet yellow-tinted skin, oily hair. She had acted like a hag to Melissa as well when she first approached the woman. But, over a few minutes of calm conversation, Melissa persuaded the women to take a ride in a car with her. That provided for Melissa to see the factory for a third time.

Melissa and Charlie both decided that it would be better if Melissa went to the factory to check with Jonathan if the women would be fine to test on. Melissa had walked ahead of Charlie in long strides to meet Jonathan. Charlie lagged behind, helping the stumbling women. Melissa began to explain the state of the women and asked if she would due. Jonathan looked past Melissa as Charlie and the women neared then looked back to Melissa and his lips twitched it was seemed like a slight-smile of amusement and delight. "Yes, Millie." He reassured her, his hand on Melissa's shoulder. "She'll do just fine... It's good to test the reaction of the toxin in different sorts of people. I'm curious to see what the reaction will be, seeing as how she is already, obviously, with drugs in her blood. I wonder if the effects would be more extreme or lesser for her. " Jonathan nodded for Charlie to take her down to the basement. "Curious to see."

"Me, too." It slipped from Melissa's mouth as she watched Charlie and the women.

"Are you?" Jonathan questioned, looking back to her. There was a cool smile-or maybe it was a smirk- that rose to his lips. "Well, maybe you should what effects take place?" It was a question. Melissa answered with an eager nod. Melissa had watched from the safety of a corner of the room. She found it to be interesting and intriguing. When Jonathan put on the mask, looming over the screaming women, taunting her... Melissa could not help but smile. That smile turned into an amused grin. Her eyes were glued to Jonathan– well, actually the Scarecrow– and the women. It was then that she had stepped forward, away from the table and towards the Scarecrow, silently offering to help with anything that was needed. Melissa had loved it. She had soaked up every second of it...

Melissa bumped into a man that looked only a few years older than she was. He quickly grabbed onto her as if he was catching her from falling, even though it wasn't needed. "Are you okay there, Miss!" He asked in a mock-alarmed way as if she was injured. Melissa felt her annoyance grow quickly with him, but she held it back as she looked up to him. He wore a black stocking cap that said "Gotham U." on it. College student. The evening was slowly draping upon the city and it was the weekend. Judging from his big-man-on-campus appearance... She'd guess that he was on his way to one bar or another.

"I don't know." Melissa said in a flirting-pout way.

He let out a huff of air, "I'm really sorry. Wasn't even watching to where I was walking. Let me make it up to you... How about a drink?" Melissa smiled gently and nodded eagerly. This was all too easy for her. And so the two of them walked to the nearest bar, and he bought her and himself a drink. The drink was strong and disgusting and burned the back of her throat. He downed it in only one or two gulps before ordering another. Melissa, rolling her eyes, looked away from him. The pub was in dim light, and was loud with other people laughing and shouting and yelling. She took the vile from her vest pocket.

"Whatcha got there?" The boy questioned with a stupid grin on his face. Without waiting for a reply, he reached for it, roughly grabbing it from her hands. He held it up in front of his eyes, an eyebrow raised. "What's this?"

"It's, uh... It's sort of like... it's like a very strong drink." She leaned in, "It's illegal in the States, even."

"Really?" His fascination was rapidly growing about the vile, "Why?"

"Oh, well... It's just so strong."

"Makes for one kickin' time then, eh?" The boy questioned, holding it to his eyes again for inspection. Melissa nodded trying to put on the most encouraging smirk she had. "Well." He uncapped the vial. "Here's to you, beautiful." He throw his head back, throwing the liquid back into his mouth. It was then Melissa remembered what Charlie said about the amount and how long they'd be knocked out for. 'Moron' Melissa thought to herself, but her smirk didn't waver.

"Doesn't taste like it's... anything special." He said with utter disappointment, looking at Melissa for an explanation.

"Oh, but it is." Melissa reassured him, amusedly yet half-annoyed that he had drank all of it. "Don't worry, boy-o, you're in for the time of your life."

And from there, Melissa suggested that they go to a quieter place– the boy easily accepted the idea. She waved down a taxi, directing it back to Jonathan's home. They went in the back way, Melissa leading him for Jonathan's door. Once inside, the boy was in awe of the home. Melissa dismissed it as having wealthy parents. She told him to sit on the couch, to make himself at home. He did. Within a matter of moments, the boy was out cold. All there was to do after that was wait. Melissa figured that she may as well take to the time to wash-up.

All there was to do now was wait for Charlie, one of Jonathan's crew, or Jonathan to return.

It would be Jonathan who returned sooner than expected.

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_****_

_**Author's Notes:** Alright, it wasn't as short as I thought it would be. Wasn't sure on how to end this chapter. Hopefully you caught that whole 'flash-back' of Melissa observing the drug-addict women and the Scarecrow and her reactions to that? If not, try again... If you just love my story... Wait until the next chapter, love-ys. It's 3:11 am here, though. I really must be heading off or else I'd post that next chapter. _


	17. Delivering from Grace

_**Author's Note:** Titled after ( a line from) the song 'Sister' by She Wants Revenge._

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Chapter 17:

Delivering from Grace

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Jonathan walked into his home without a sound. He moved into the living room, moving towards the large patio doors, looking out into the dreary city. Large, heavy clouds loomed in the sky, mixing with the fumes from the city. His home was in good view of the beautiful city of Gotham and was in better view of the Narrows of the city. His eyes moved from one side of the narrows to the other, a few blocks away from the harbor. It was the location of where his house once was. His eyes stared at it without any sort remorse. The bitter drafts of chilly wind blew through the cracks of the window. He could still feel it breathing against his hollow cheeks. His mother did her very best for Jonathan.

She carried two jobs for him, but still managed time to prepare him breakfast and sit at their small table for dinner, asking him how his day was. She'd buy him books, and though they were second-hand, tattered and torn, he'd read them for hours on end. He had read Alice in Wonderland when he was ten or eleven. Most would call it a girl's book, but it fascinated the young Jonathan Crane. The Mad Hatter and the Cat were still vivid. Such a calmed madness in a child's book, a "girls' book". It caused his lips to slither into a smirk. His mother had mindlessly suggested psychology to him when he was fifteen after noting how much he read. It became a heavy fascination after that. An obsession.

It was at that moment Jonathan noticed Melissa. Actually, he noticed that she was not in the living room. There was a boy around the age of twenty on his couch, deeply sleeping though. His eyes scanned the kitchen, but nor was she there. "Hmph." Well, maybe she was napping or maybe she was in the lobby. It didn't bother Jonathan all to much. Melissa knew better than to just run off. Only a few days past two weeks of being in his home, she knew better. Exhaling a breath, he walked down the short hallway, loosening his tie as he walked past the closed door to the guest room. He glanced at the door as he removed his tie, but he pushed himself on into his own bedroom. He threw his tie on the armchair, hung his coat on one of the armrests, and slipped out of his shoes. His icy eyes stared at the winter blankets on his bed, unbuttoning the few top buttons of his crisp white shirt. The blankets could be changed soon, the winter snow had came to an end

, it'd even rain now and then. Spring. With a light laugh, or maybe a scoff, he ruffled his hair, turning to the door to his bathroom. What he saw made him stop in his tracks.

"Melissa?"

"Crane? I mean- Jonathan?"

"What are you doing?"

"I- er- I took a shower." And the evidence was clear of that. Her dark hair was wet and in loose curls. She looked awkward standing there, though one could hardly blame her. A large fluffy towel was wrapped around her body. Where were her clothes? In her room? In his room someplace? Did he care? Why was he staring?

"Why?" Jonathan asked shortly. His arms hung at his sides, unsure of what to do. He forced himself to keep his eyes on hers, not even trying to look anywhere else in the room—his eyes might drop below her neck. She was good at getting him people to test on. Usually men, he seemed to have suddenly noticed. Why hadn't he noticed before that it was only men? Is _this_ how she got them from him? He _had_ told her 'anyway necessary', but this?

She shifted her weight to her other foot. Melissa swallowed hard, her mouth was too dry to speak. Why couldn't he look someplace else? She didn't want to look into his eyes. Piercing blue eyes. She'd love it if he'd look anyplace else but back into her eyes. White, neat shirt with a few undone buttons. Tie and jacket on chair. "The other shower wasn't working." So close to the bed. Should she go? Should she continue to answer his questions? Laugh?

"Oh… You're done then? I… need to…wash up." Psychologist at Arkham Asylum. The top. The best. It felt as he was losing his mind though, without help from the Scarecrow. Sex. That's what it must be. Just sex. It was basic in the mind. It was thought about all the time, or so say the famous psychologist….What was his name? Jonathan's mind was too clouded to think of history's great psychologists.

"Yeah. Yes, I'm finished."

"Okay."

"Okay." Melissa repeated. "Then… I should leave."

"I suppose." He answered.

Neither one moved. "You're in the way." Melissa pointed out.

"You're not moving." Jonathan shot back.

"Well neither are you." This was followed by silence. It was like a mutual agreement to move into action. At the same time, Jonathan stepped to the side, and Melissa moved forward, towards the door. Melissa was staring at the doorway, Jonathan still staring at where Melissa had been a moment before. Each step felt like an earthquake to Melissa. Each step Melissa took, Jonathan felt his head get light, his hands clammy and sweaty. She walked right past him. His mind snapped.

In an instant, his hand was gripping tightly onto her wrist. He didn't mean for it to be painful and tight, it's just how it happened. He knew was tight and firm, yet Melissa didn't whimper or flinch or try to pull away. She simply stopped and looked up to him. His eyes were still staring at the spot she had been. Her other hand grabbed onto his sleeve, forcing him to look at her.

Jonathan moved his eyes towards hers finally. He stared, or simply looked, or maybe he was regarding her carefully. Melissa's mouth was slightly opened, and she even took a breath like she was about to say something. Jonathan waited, but no words came.

The air felt uncomfortable stuffy in the room which caused breaths to feel tight and slow. Whatever plans either of them had for leaving the room and passing one another was now gone. Now they seemed to be glued to the spot they were standing. Standing so close together. Neither one could comprehend their thoughts. Jonathan could get it straight of who he was at the moment- be it Jonathan, Dr. Crane, or Scarecrow. Melissa couldn't figure out who he was, either—more or less her own being. Everything had a drugged feeling to it. Unclear, clouded, and dizzy. They were standing so close together, Jonathan's hand still tightly grasping Melissa's wrist, Melissa still tightly holding onto his sleeve. Before realization came into place, their lips were hovering close together. Dangerously close.

Judgements and rational thoughts had been long forgotten—along with the boy that was sleeping on the couch. His free hand moved to wrap behind her neck, pulling her closer. She was willing. That small space between their lips was no-longer. It was sealed shut.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I believe that that is enough, hm? I'll say this about it though: They were in Jonathan's bedroom. Thoughts were…unclear and judgement was gone. **HintHint**.


	18. Haunted Dreams

_**Author's Note: **Sorry for the wait. Writer's block, school,and all. I mean- honestly– I was trying to stay somewhat within the color lines for little dark Dr. Crane– but I had no idea had he'd act after... WinkWink. Tough. So--- there's s'more insight on Melissa._

_Also Important: Just so you don't get confused if you can't figure it out-- The first 2 sections are memories that've been dreamed. The last section isn't._

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_Chapter 18:_

**Haunted Dreams**

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"Mom." She whined with a long sigh, holding her arms out in front of her. Her mother walked by, moving to the couch and collapsed onto it, ignoring Melissa's begs. "Mom." She repeated, moving to the couch. "You can't lay down... You have to stay awake. You've got to get ready for work." Her mother didn't answer her. Melissa dropped beside the couch, staring into her mother's blank face. Melissa closed her eyes tightly, rubbing her face in her hands. "The rent is due soon... Did he take the money again?" She was answered by silence. "Why can't you kick him out? Get a divorce?" More silence. Melissa licked her lips, and ventured her voice forward cautiously, "Mama?" The word always seemed to have an effect but Melissa was careful when she said it. She didn't want to overuse it, and have it lose all meaning just like every other word Melissa used to call her mother.

Her mother blinked and looked to Melissa. She gave a weak smile, "Don't worry, Millie." She patted her cold hand against Melissa's cheek. "You should go to school. Don't worry about me, Millie."

Melissa said nothing for a moment, dropping her eyes to the floor. "School's over, mom. Our last day was two days ago... It's summer break." She shifted her eyes back to her mother's. "I told you last week. I told you two days ago. I just told you yesterday..." Her mother looked pale and frail, her hair was a mess. "Please just get ready... I need to leave soon– I've got a job."

"Oh, Melissa. You shouldn't worry about it. You should enjoy your vacation. You'll miss them when you're older."

"I needed it. _We _needed it." Melissa said in annoyance, in anger at missing the summer. Melissa pressed her lips together, think she had been too harsh with her tone. "Where's the rent, mom? I can drop off the amount we have now at the front desk when I leave..." Her mother closed her eyes, sighing, resting her cheek on her hand. Melissa shook her shoulder slightly, "Dad didn't take it again, did he?" There was no answer. "I can't see why you don't get a divorce." She said somewhat bitterly as she stood up, checking her reflection in the window's glass.

"Being married is..."

"An eternal bond?" Melissa scowled, turning away from her mother. "Not something to be 'abused'?"

"It's important... I'd rather not have all dreams... fulfilled rather than be alone."

"You wouldn't be alone! You've got me. You'll have _me_.." She said hopelessly, looking to her mother. Her mother said nothing, only gazed at the opposite wall with a distant look on her face. Melissa swallowed hard as she adjusted her jeans and shirt, trying to smooth wrinkles out of them. "Please just get ready, Mom..." Melissa said in a final plea as she turned to leave. She pushed open the door, and called over her shoulder softy- "I love you." There was no answer, not that Melissa had expected one, though. She pushed open the door and stepped out of her home.

* * *

The street lamps lit the streets of the Narrows. Of Gotham. Melissa could not imagine what the city of Gotham was like as a whole. She could only imagine the whole city to be like what she had known for her life- the Narrows. Where crime and desperation ran life. 

Teenage boys and the younger men were in street gangs, committing all sort of crimes. Some had weapons and some just had things they found on the streets- chains for example. For a time, it seemed to be a fashion for at least one member of a gang to be able to use a chain in a fight, and use it well. Some gangs stole purses, broke into stores at night, mugged, some mocked and raped, sold drugs, some murdered, there was a variety of activities that gangs could kill their time with. Not all were truly awful, Melissa knew. In one of her science classes, a boy that had once sat in front of her had joined a local gang. He had been sympathetic to others, and at the top of the class, Melissa always chatted with him in class- whether he liked it or not. He had always helped Melissa when she asked, even letting her copy off of his assignments.

But then he missed a day of class, which became a few, which then turned into most, which then became all classes- a drop out. She had seen him a few times on the streets, in alley ways, on trains, pursing unsuspecting people on streets. They'd always stop to look at each other, but never exchange words- only sorry gazes for each other before continuing on with their lives. She had once seen him running with a group of other guys, a chain twisted around his fist and the end danging to the ground. Three months after he had dropped out, the class got word that he had been found in the river. Dead. The funeral was a decent size, all with somber expressions- but not questioning ones. His mother was crying throughout and Melissa couldn't push herself to offer words of comfort, even though she knew his mother for years. A few months after that, the boy's mother killed herself. This was the Gotham that Melissa knew.

His face still dwelled in her mind. Sixteen, young and fresh with dark but bright brown eyes, dark, short hair and dimples when he grinned with his constant broad, goofy-looking grin. But then, the image of his face was quickly followed by dull, dead brown eyes, blue lips, pale skin, and bruises on his face from a rival gang. It was the Narrows, though. It was to be expected in some deep part of the mind.

She tried to push his face from her mind as she shuffled along the sidewalks, her hands in her pockets, staring the ground. Work was always tiring and left her with aching, slow muscles. Melissa guessed that it was around 9:15 as she turned a street corner, licking her lips slowly. Her eyes stayed on her shoes– blankly watching one shoe move in front of the other, move in front of the other, move in front of the other. She was too tired to notice was else was happening around her... which in the Narrows, wasn't good.

In the next moment of realization, she was being pulled into one of the small, long passageways in between buildings by arms. It came with such shock and such surprise that she couldn't get a word out. Not a scream, sob, or cry for help- not even a gasp. She tried to pull away from the arms holding her, but was still too sore from her job. It seemed hopeless. No matter how much Melissa tried, though she knew it wasn't much, the arms wouldn't release her. It'd be easiest to just let herself go- let herself fall into the arms dragging her back into the alley. The light from the street lamp at the end of passageway was fading as she was being pulled back deeper. Again, the face of the former classmate passed though her mind- pale, cut, bruised. Her back hit the brick wall without softness- it seemed to knock all the strength out of her.

* * *

She gasped, sitting bolt upright in the bed, clutching the sheet at her chest as she panted for air. Her face felt sweaty, her heart was thudding in her chest, her eyes trying to focus on her surroundings. Staring at her blanketed legs, her brain commanded the rest of her mind to go slowly. It was just a memory. Just a dream. 'Deep, slow breaths' her brain commanded. She tried to swallow back her nerves, the fear of the memory. 

"Bad dream?" Jonathan's voice floated to her, unconcernedly but curiously. Melissa slowly looked back to him. He his putting a red tie around his neck as he watched her- without any appearance of emotion. Melissa felt her brows furrow, the corners of her lips drop in frustration.

"You were talking in your sleep." Jonathan commented when Melissa didn't reply. She continued to stare at him. He continued to watch her, finishing with his tie. "What was happening?" Melissa looked away from him with annoyance, but Jonathan continued on lightly. "You kept repeating 'No'. Whining it, really. Said it very clearly, in fact. Most other things you said were mumbled." Jonathan could see that each one of his words was like a slap to his face, so he turned around to look in his mirror, his hand trying to push his hair back.

He yet to put his glasses on, but he could easily see Melissa's distraught reflection as she was turned around from him. Jonathan was curious about her dream. Melissa remembered what it was about, Jonathan knew. He wasn't sure why he said what he said, though. He knew that with those words- Melissa wouldn't feel any need or want to tell Jonathan.

He continued to gaze to her reflection as she slowly moved off his bed, his sheet wrapped around her. She moved to grab her clothes carefully, not even taking a single glance at Jonathan. He looked back to his own reflection, his mind nothing that she looked quite vulnerable. Vulnerable and weak. It made him think of his days at grade school all the way to highschool. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to hide under the blankets. Jonathan hated it. He hated that she resembled it. It bothered him. Annoyed him. He wanted to turn around and scold her- telling her not to look such a way. Weak and vulnerable. Didn't she know that those qualities were hunted for in the city? If she'd walk the streets, looking such a way... The result wouldn't be favorable for Melissa. What would he be left with then?

Jonathan almost felt sorry for Melissa. He almost doubted his bargain for her to work with him. He almost the need to be the one looking over her shoulder– making sure that no predators would pounce upon _his_ prey. _Almost_.

When a few minutes of heavy tensioned, silence passed- Jonathan put on his glasses and looked back into the mirror- to Melissa's reflection. She was dressed, with her back turned to him, fidgeting with her hair. His eyes fastened to her, as he felt his lips yearning to slither into a smirk. It was just then- just as his lips begin to smirk- that Melissa whipped around to him, her eyes wide- "Moron?"

"What?" Jonathan asked with a scowl as he turned around to face her. Did she just call him a moron? Just when he was starting to feel_ pity_ for her?

"No!" Melissa said quickly to his expression- "I mean– the guy! On the couch!"

"How much did he drink?"Jonathan asked quickly, the doctorly-business tone instantly appearing in his voice.

"All of it."

Jonathan stared at Melissa for a few moments, then shook his head. "How long ago did you give it to him?"

"Six hours..."

"He should be fine then. He's still got another eight or nine hours until he should wake up." Jonathan hardly finished his words before they heard a loud thud coming from the living room. Within the next second, Jonathan was out of the bedroom and into the living room.

In the bedroom, Melissa heard him shout with bewilderment- "HE'S AWAKE!"


	19. A Suggestion

_**Author's Note:** I'm not sure with this chapter. How I like it, I mean. I just need it to move the story along. Plus, I'm very tired... but I just HAD to update. Maybe the chapter's good though? Maybe it isn't? There is a few bits, here and there, that are quite important though– Just for the record. **Reviewing** for this chapter... Maybe on... something. What you think is important? Predictions? Anything? Encouragement to not give up? Anything?_

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_**Chapter 19**_

_A suggestion_

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Melissa rushed into the living room in shock, staring at the young man (who she still didn't know the name of) as he tried to push himself off of the floor, mumbling. Jonathan stood next to her, staring at him, surprise on his face. The surprised expression, though, was not in anyway good. The boy let out shout of a mumble, his words with a gurgling sound to them, as he lifted his head. His eyes opened to the two of them- Melissa and Jonathan- who stared back with a shocked expression.

For a few moments, it seemed as if the air in Jonathan's home was thick. So thick that nobody was able to breath. It was suffocation . Or maybe it was the tension that was thick. Either way- all three of them stood motionless– except for the unknown young man, who was _laying_ on the floor after rolling off the couch. Melissa's eyes flicked between the rat, No-name, and Jonathan. Jonathan's eyes were still wide with surprise, but also seemed darkened with anger.

"Don't move." Jonathan said in a voice that was barely a whisper, barely moving his lips. "He might think it's a dream."

No-name's eyelids dropped as his head sank to the floor once more. Melissa let out a soft breath of relief. He was letting himself sleep again- or so it would seem until the next moment arrived. In what seemed like a rush, No-name had again lifted his head, and also pushed himself off the floor. He pushed himself onto his knuckles and knees slowly, carefully, groggily. Then slowly up to his feet, holding his hands out for balance.

"Are you sure?" Melissa asked quietly with quirked brow, staring at No-name, "Because I don't think it's working." She couldn't bite back the sourness in her voice. The boy's eyes meet Melissa's. Confusion. Then his eyebrows sank, his eyes narrowing in a suspicious scowl.

Jonathan slowly stepped away from No-name, holding his arm out slightly, trying to hint to Melissa to do the same. "Melissa-" Jonathan said, glancing over to her, "Come here. Now."

"Why?" She asked as she leaned away from No-name, who was leaning forward, attempting to walk.

"It isn't the right drug."

"What?" Melissa asked with bewilderment, having a trouble keeping her voice down.

"He could have... a type of Excited delirium set in if he drank the whole vial."

"Excited _what_?"

"Just come here. _Now_. Move slowly- don't make him feel threatened. _Now_." Jonathan again commanded, holding him arm out, keeping his eyes on No-name. Melissa glanced back to Jonathan's hand then back to No-name hesitantly. Melissa took a step back, a step towards Jonathan and away from Charlie, but her timing seemed to be off.

In the instant that she picked her foot off of the ground to step back, No-name launched himself at her with a growl. From Melissa's point of view, the situation was going slowly. It was a moment that she knew it was going to happen, but still too shocked to prevent it. Jonathan though, Jonathan had been faced with split-second decision-making actions at the asylum before. He was Dr. Jonathan Crane, after all. And because he was Dr. Jonathan Crane, he knew what was going to happen, and wasn't too shocked to prevent it. With a quick, firm shove- Melissa was out of the way. There was not enough time for Jonathan to move though, and he was caught in the path of No-name.

Melissa, from the force of Jonathan's hands, had been shoved against the wall and had the air knocked out of her. It took her a few split-seconds to regain breath, to regain a grip on the situation. When her navy eyes turned over to look at the scene that she had avoided- Jonathan and No-Name were on the kitchen floor, No-Names hands around Jonathan's neck. Jonathan's mouth was trying to gasp for breath, No-names face contorted in an enraged feature.

"Stop!" Melissa shouted at No-name, rushing to him, trying to pull on one of his arms to loosen his grip. She hardly had an effect on the situation. She tried to pull him away from Jonathan. Jonathan was trying to push No-Name away. No-Name face was determined, though. He whipped an arm back, pushing Melissa away from him before tightening his grip around Jonathan's neck.

Melissa lifted herself off the floor, catching a glimpse of Jonathan's face. His eyes were closed tightly, face twisted with pain, his mouth still attempting to breathe in air. It surprised her that No-name hadn't yet broken Jonathan's neck with how tight he was gripping. Melissa's eyes were glued to his pained face, his face that was starting to turn a shade of blue from lack of oxygen. When would his face turn the same shade of his eyes, she wondered.

Melissa swiftly moved past the two of them, grabbing a handle that was standing out of the kitchen sink. Holding that handle firmly, she turned back to the two of them, glaring at the back of No-Names head. She brought whatever she was holding across the back of his head, before letting it drop to the floor. No-name was once again unconsciously, falling off to the side of Jonathan.

Jonathan instantly began coughing, his hands rubbing his throat, eyes still tightly closed. Melissa dropped beside him, "You're alright, Jonathan."

He nodded his head, still coughing as he pushed himself off the floor.

"What did you do?" Jonathan asked in between coughs, looking to Melissa. Melissa look to the floor. The handle was next to Jonathan's feet. On the end of that handle was a thin pan.

"Hit him with a pan."

"A pan?"

Melissa nodded, "A pan."

"He probably won't be out for long, then." Jonathan said as he looked to No-Name, watching his chest rise and fall to make sure he was breathing. Jonathan stood up, looking down to No-Name. He motioned for Melissa to grab one of his arms, of which she did, and he grabbed the other. Together, they pulled No-Name out. Jonathan nodded for them to go to the door. "We need to move."

No more words were exchanged between the two until they had gotten No-Name into the back seat of Jonathan's car. They had only run into one other person on the way to the car, and that was in the parking lot. Jonathan laughed as the person gave them curious looks and called out 'too much to drink too early!'. The person only nodded and gave an understanding grin– if he really believed them or not was hard to tell- but he wasn't about to dig himself a grave by investigating further. And once Melissa was in the passenger's seat and Jonathan had turned on the engine, she glanced back to No-name, then back to Jonathan.

"Are we going to have time to take him to the factory?"

Jonathan said nothing for a few silent moments, staring out of the windshield. "I don't know." And this was something that was inflicting doubts in Jonathan's mind. If he woke up before they got to the factory– he may be able to escape in one way or another. Or maybe he could just single to a passing car. Maybe that car would belong to an idealist... That'd just be a delay, if not a complete stop, to all of his work. His work over years and years of studying the affects of certain drugs and the affects that those certain drugs have while mixed.

Jonathan pulled out of the parking lot, his mind obviously on No-Name and the amount of time they had before he'd awake.

"There's closer places you could take him to... Momentarily, at least."

Jonathan glared in annoyance,. "And to what place do you suggest, Melissa?" His voice full of bitterness, "Where can I bring him, hm? I'd love to hear any ideas."

Melissa sat silent, staring at him. It caused Jonathan to shake his head in annoyance.

"The Asylum." Melissa said carefully, watching him, waiting for a reaction. "I mean... You're the head psychologist. You're the director, aren't you? If you say that he is crazy– they'll believe you, won't they? You don't really need papers, do you?"

Jonathan looked to Melissa. He had gotten her out of the asylum without any troubles. Why should be putting someone in be any trouble?

"After you put him in... You can basically just make up some story and some record for him, can't you?"

"It'd give me time to get the _proper _drug... From there- we could just move him to the factory."

"Exactly." Melissa nodded a few times. "What do you think of the idea?"

Jonathan looked away from him as he pulled onto one of the main roads of the Narrows. "I _have _got a few things to check up on." Jonathan guessed that Melissa would dismiss this as work- and, in a way, it was... Alex _was_ his patient, after all.


	20. The Basement

**Author's Note: **_Geez. I thought I posted this chapter a long time ago. Sorry._

_To reply to golden-peaches... and anyone else: No-Name hasn't got a name, really– at least that they know of. "Charlie" is one of the men that works for Jonathan. Sorry if it wasn't too clear. I should revise sometime..._

_I think that this is another chapter to move the story along. Every story needs them. But, maybe... hopefully... it is slightly intriging or interesting? _

* * *

_Chapter 20:_

**The Basement**

* * *

Melissa knew that Jonathan was the top psychologist at Arkham Asylum. Dr. Crane was very valuable and it would do well to not upset him or get in his way, she knew. Jonathan was the director of the asylum... he was Dr. Crane, after all! And yet, Melissa was surprised to see that there were hardly any questions to him about Melissa or about No-Name. There were curious and questioning glances from the other doctors and nurses, but that's pretty much all it was. Not even stares– merely glances. It made Melissa think that Dr. Crane had the same effect on his co-workers has he did with his patients, to his henchmen... to her.

"Third floor." Jonathan told Melissa as tried to hold No-Name steady against a wall. Melissa blinked, coming out of her thoughts, her eyes focusing on what was around her. A small box of a room. Melissa turned around and looked at the numbers on the side. She pushed the '2' in, surprised slightly that they had walked into an elevator without her noticing.

"How do you split up the patients?" She asked as the door closed.

Jonathan paused with his movements, staring hard at No-name, his back to Melissa. "What? What do you mean?"

"You know to go to the third floor with him, so does that mean each level is... is dedicated to a different group of patients?" Jonathan continued to stare at No-Name, his eyes becoming a glare at her questions. He had always been annoyed by people asking him questions. He hated being asked questions. Especially now. In his own institution. The place were his word went easily. "I mean... For example, what group of patients are on the third floor?" Melissa asked as the elevator rose.

"Why are you curious?" Jonathan asked, trying to force the annoyance out of his voice and cover it with amusement. The third floor. Isn't that where he put Alex?_ 'She's too curious_.' The familiar dark voice whispered into his ear. _'She isn't afraid anymore.' _Jonathan felt his throat and muscles tighten. _'I can fix that. You should've tested her when you had the chance'._ He felt his forehead start to get warm like preparing to start to sweat. He tried to push the urges away as he kept his eyes on No-name.

There was a ding of the elevator bell, and the Scarecrow rushed away as Jonathan began to pull No-Name out of the elevator. Melissa began to follow behind, ready to do any task that Jonathan demanded. It almost made his lips twitch into a smile. Reliable. Obedient. There was a problem though with the third floor and Melissa. She was curious. She'd go wandering. She'd find Alex. "No, Melissa." Jonathan said suddenly, looking at her with his usual emotionless expression.

"What?" It crossed her mind that she saw a moment of panic on his face.

He shook his head, "It'll raise too many questions."

"But... We got through easily downstairs."

"This isn't the same. Patients are here. They'll think it's strange if you're here... If you say you're visiting, they'll ask for some sort of proof."

Melissa stood in the doorway of the elevator, keeping it from closing. She stared at him with a questioning look. "What am I suppose to do then?" She asked with her hands raised into the air slightly, palms up to the ceiling like it was a shrug of restlessness.

Jonathan let gravity take No-Name to the floor as he let go of his arms. Jonathan began to look around with searching, silent eyes.. He patted his clothes a few times, staring down to No-Name. Jonathan found a small key-ring in his pocket and he handed it to her. There were three keys on it. "It's got my office key on it. Wait in my office. It's on the main level. Get off the elevator, walk until you get to the second left, then follow it all the way down. It's at the end. There's a sign on the door, as well. If you're not sure, just ask the front desk." He told her as he picked No-Name up again, pulling him down the hall.

"What about the other keys?"

"One is to the drawers and files in my office. If I find something in those drawers gone or missing, Melissa–." He glanced up to Melissa, warning her. It was an unfinished threat. Melissa found it to be odd in a way. He was a testing drugs on people, having them killed, having people kidnaped... and yet he still wanted the files to remain confidential. "The other is to the basement." He looked away from her, "I shouldn't be too long. Probably an hour at most. Just have me paged if you need me."

"Okay." Melissa said as she began to back into the elevator. Her navy eyes watched him before the door closed together, blocking her view. She slowly looked to the numbered buttons and pushed in the one, staring at it. The elevator moved down and she looked up to the top of the door as the lighted 4 went out and the 3 was lighted instead. Hanging onto the keys, she slowly looked down to them.

Jonathan told her to wait in his office for sometime. Files were completely off-limits, he made clear. She wouldn't want to test her luck with that. She had seen, in the past weeks, that when he said something– he'd keep to it. There were no meaningly threats with him. Threats so that people do things. If he made a threat, he'd be sure to keep it. She didn't want him to have to follow through with his threat to her– even if it was left unsaid.

Her eyes moved to the keyhole below the buttons. She stared at it for a few moments, blinking in silence. He said nothing about the basement. He didn't say it was off-limits. She wouldn't be going against him if she went to the basement, right? That's what Melissa figured. There'd be no harm in poking around the basement. From what she guessed, the asylum had been standing for more than a hundred years. Maybe there was something to look at in the basement. Old name-tags, papers, books. Maybe old black-and-white photographs from outside the asylum. Maybe old photographs of the doctors and nurses.

As she reached the main level, the doors opened up into an empty hallway. Melissa licked her lips as she pressed 'Door Close' and pressed the 'B'. Nothing happened. She looked back down to the ring of keys, to the last key. It looked old and rusty. Undoubtly the one used for the basement. She put it into the keyhole and turned it. She felt her heart rise up in her chest as the elevator again moved down. A slow moment later, the doors opened up and she pulled the key out of the key hole, pocketing them. Melissa peered out of the doors, up and down the long cemented hall before cautiously stepping out.

* * *

"And how are we today, Alex?" He asked with a pleasant smile and his doctor tone as he stood near Alex's bed. Alex was laying on his side, facing the padded wall. Alex made no reply. His facial expression did not waver from its distant look. "MmmHmm." Dr. Crane replied to the nothingness. "I suspect that you put up some sort of resistance to something, hm?" He stepped forward, putting a hand on Alex's shoulder and pulling it so that Alex rolled onto his back to stare up at the bland ceiling. Jonathan leaned over the bed, peering into Alex's eyes to examine his pupils. "You've been drugged, haven't you? Sedation of some form or another. You know, Alex– the longer you fight... The longer they'll drug you. You do live up to the 'mentally unstable' word, don't you? No need to worry... It is imy/i asylum, after all. All you have to do is cooperate... Do what I told you to do before. Forget her. If you do that, then you'll be just fine, my boy. She'll be fine, too." 

Alex's eyes finally moved from the ceiling as he turned to look up at Dr. Crane towering over him. He turned his head to look at him fully. "'She'll'?" His voice was quiet, soft, and wavering– as if he hadn't spoken for days.

"Oh yes." Dr. Craned leaned away from Alex, with the smile still plastered to his face. "Melissa. She's here."

"What did you do to her?" His voice was growing more steady, his eyebrows furrowing in suspicion. Alex lifted his head from the pillow as if to challenge.

"She's not here as a patient, if that's what you mean." Alex's tensed jaw softened slightly and he dropped his head back to the pillow. "I suggest you get yourself some rest. Think about things and what consequences are... We could do things the simple way, or the hard way. The hard way being that you're here for the rest of your life with a lost mind..." He moved towards the door, " Just remember that no matter what you choose- you've already lost Melissa and that she is now imine/I." From the corner of his eye, he saw Alex again tense up.

Dr. Crane opened the door, but paused in the doorway. He could not help himself- "Though she isn't my patient any longer– we had played a game of doctor." He got the reaction that he wanted. In an instant Alex was on his feet, swearing and cussing at the tup of his voice. It was too late for him to do anything more though, because Dr. Crane was out the door– amusedly smirking to himself as he walked down the hallway in long strides.

x

Down a few flights of stairs, a few turns here and there until he was finally at his office door. When he opened it, Melissa was sitting in his chair, her feet on his desk. He'd be annoyed and tell her off about it if it wasn't for the dancing delight of her eyes. He tilted his head to the side, "What's put you in such a good mood?"

Without a single word, Melissa stood up and bumped her shoulder against him lightly as she passed him, moving into the hallway. She looked over her shoulder to see if he was following. He realized that she wanted him to– and curiosity got the better of him. A part of him was weary of following her. Another part was hoping for sex– he couldn't be blamed for it. He was a man, after all. She seemed quite pleased with herself. Another part was interested and very curious.

They stepped into the elevator, and Melissa put a key into the basement keyhole, turning it with a click. She pressed in the 'B', rocking back and forth on her heels. She was utterly pleased with herself.

"What's in the basement?" Jonathan asked with a quirked brow, trying to read her expression to get any hint.

Melissa said nothing as the door opened to the basement. She only looked at him with a sly smirk as she walked out of the elevator, "Come with me, Doctor." The words rolled off her tongue in self-satisfaction. "There's something I think you should see." Jonatahn followed closely behind her, following her to large wooden doors. Melissa pulled them open, stepping inside. There was a small, square level that they stepped onto. From the level where steps that lead down to the floor. The room was large and spacious. There were crates here and there with piles of dust on them.

"I found it... I thought that if you need someplace closer to test on people than the factory... Maybe here would be–"

"Excellent." He breathed with a dark, impressedsatisfaction.

* * *

_So... I made Melissa the one to suggest to Crane to use the Asylum's basement to use to test his drugs in. Just to make it clear. _

_And the mention of playing 'Doctor' may seem a bit of out of character of Crane but... I decided to make him gloat it to Alex– just to make Alex a bit more— geerr-- you know?_

_And to keep you staying on this story: In the next chapter (of which will probably be... fast forwarded a few weeks): A new development of Crane's toxin! Yay! Charlie and Melissa had met in the past... Of which they both just remembered and realized that it was one another... It's more important than it sounds_.


	21. Then She Learns

_**Chapter 21:**_

Then She Learns ...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is what you were talking about?"

"Yes." He firmly said looking to the doctor.

Dr. Crane shifted his eyes from the file spread open on his desk to look at the man in silence. His glacier eyes then fell to the flower in his hand. He gently took the blue flower out of Al Ghaul's hand, holding it close to his eyes for inspection. Dr. Crane was looking for something that set it apart from all of the flowers he had before seen in his life. There was nothing particularly fascinating about it. "You're sure about this?" He again looked up, across his desk, to meet the eyes of the older man.

"I've used it as the main ingredient before." His said calmly and clearly, folding his fingers together in front of his chest. "If these flowers can have an affect of fear of those that breath it-- while being mixed with primitive ingredients– in the snow covered mountains that are far from civilization... well, I'm sure that you, Doctor, can make something much more...powerful."

He gathered the papers together that had been spread across his desk, shuffled them together, and put them back in their folder before turning all of his attention back on the flower.

"With this flower-" Al Ghul continued, "You could... Create the very meaning of-"

"Fear." Dr. Crane finished, his eyes glued to the petals of the flower. His mind was instantly racing with ideas of all sorts. His mind wondered how intense the fear would be, how long the feeling would last. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice that Ra's Al Ghul had stood up to leave the room. By the time the door was closed behind him, the Scarecrow was laughing with delight. Laughing out loud with utter delight.

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"Where's Charlie?" Melissa suddenly asked as they had been lazily gathered in the new-found room in Arkham Asylum basement. 'They' being Jonathan's usual workers. A couple heads turned in her direction, but none offered an answer. The heads turned away from her. One lit a cigarette and took a long drag of it as his eyes scanned the room. Another slowly paced back and forth, spinning a small gun around his finger. Two were involved in a game of cards. The few others were either sitting or standing.

"It's a good room." The smoker announced. "Nice. Big. Spacious... Closer than the factory, too." There were murmurs of agreement from the others. He changed the topic once again, "When's the Doc suppose to be here?"

"Hour and a half, I think." Melissa answered. He nodded and gave an 'oh'. She narrowed her eyes, "So you all _can_ hear me?" She snapped with annoyance. It was such a snap that she caught all of their attentions and they all stopped to turn to look at her. "Tell me... Where is Charlie? I haven't seen him for... two weeks– maybe more. Where is he? Did he get caught by the cops or something?"

"Or something." The smoker answered, watching Melissa. She raised a brow and he glanced around to the others. "Well... Crane never said NOT to tell her, right?" He got a few nods. It was good enough for him. He turned back to Melissa. "Crane had it in his head that you and Charlie are not well together."

"But we had always been together at the start of things. We didn't always get along, but it isn't like we–"

"No, no, not like that, Melissa." He licked his lips, considering what words to use. "Maybe those weren't the best words to use..." He took another long drag before flicking the cigarettes's ashes off.

Letting out a huff of smoke, he began, "A while back, back at the factory, Charlie and Crane... The relationship between you and Crane didn't sit too well with Charlie. I'm not saying that _I_ think there's something going on between you two and I don't know if that's what Charlie thought. I don't know what Charlie thought. I think he felt like you were getting special treatment from Crane. Long before you came along to this little operation... Charlie was Crane's right-hand man. Crane's first-mate or some shit like that. Either way... It was changed once you came. I think that Charlie thought like his place was threatened."

Melissa only shook her head, "But... I don't see why that explains why Charlie isn't here."

"The Doc likes to have his 'high and mightiness'. Charlie wasn't so keen on it that night." The one that had spinning the gun now chimed in. He put the gun back in its holder and folded his arms across his chest. "He also seems to be a bit possessive of things, Melissa. Plenty of things. You included. I think that Charlie started to get awfully suspicious of things. I think Charlie saw you as a way to get back to that first-mate position. Like said before– before you it was Charlie."

"What?" Melissa asked with her brows furrowed.

One of the card-players looked over to Melissa and cleared his throat, "I'm sure the doc realized that Charlie thought that way– he is a psychologist, after all. I think he saw Charlie as some sort of a threat to you. Most times, things can be settled differently. As in us working it out by ourselves... Crane is possessive of you.. So now it's different. I mean, _you _wouldn't want to see something bad happen to something that you were possessive over, would you?"

The other card-player then chipped in- "Crane saw it better if you and Charlie would see less of each other. After that night in the factory, Crane wanted to see less of Charlie...Crane threatened Charlie by threatening his father. Told him that Charlie was to listen to his orders and do them without question. Charlie then wanted to see less of Crane. When people want to see less of each other... it just continues to get lesser and lesser. I haven't seen Charlie for a few days, actually."

There was a brief pause before Melissa shook her head and again asked, "What?"

"All in all," The gun-slinger said, "They weren't too trustful of each other. No trust at all now, I think."

Melissa looked at him"_Where _is Charlie?"

"What day is it?"

"Thursday." She answered.

"Visting his father." The smoker said, turning to Melissa. "Retirement home. He usually always had Thrusday off. Asked him what he did on those days, and he said he visits his dad. I think the place is called... Harbor View... Port View... Bay View... Something about the water and then 'View' at the end."

Without another word, Melissa left them as she hurried up the steps. They watched her go.

"You think that we should've tried to...keep her here?" The first card player asked. The second one looked back to his hand of cards and raised his brows, shrugging. "Probably. Too late now, though." He muttered, slipping a card into his hand from his sleeve. The other player turned back just in time to catch this. "You're cheating!" He shouted. All attention had now disappeared from the staircase Melissa left on to the arguing card players.


	22. He’s Her Savior

**Chapter 22,**

_...He's Her Savior_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"I just wanted to talk to you, Charlie!" She shouted at him as he pushed past her. Actually, he gave her a solid shove of his arm when he was close enough. It sent Melissa stumbling against a car's door. She glared at the back of his head as he continued to walk, weaving in and out of other cars to leave her. "I wanted to ask you something!"

His pace didn't slow, he didn't look back, he didn't give any sort of a reply. Melissa followed him. "CHARLIE!"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "GO, Melissa! I DO NOT want to talk to you!" Crane's threat to Charlie's father was still clear in his mind.

"You're scared!" She accused him, grabbing his arm. "You're afraid of Crane!"

He flung his arm out of her hand, abruptly stopping to face her. He raised his opposite hand to hit her across her face. He had no problem with the idea of hitting Melissa. He wanted to. He had wanted to for weeks, now. She had been, in his opinion, getting in the way too much. Charlie now had the opportunity to hit her, and yet... his hand stayed in the air– it wasn't moving towards her face. Something about the way she looked caused him to reluctantly drop his hand back to his side. There suddenly seemed to be a familiarness to her.

Melissa's eyes followed Charlie's hand as he dropped it. She glared and looked back up to him except he had now turned away, fumbling with his keys to unlock his car.

"Why don't you just fucking hit me, Charlie?" She asked, again glaring at the back of his head. He gave no reply. "You know you want to. I know you want to. Go ahead."

"Don't taunt me, lass." He muttered, staring at her reflection in the car's window. "We both know I want to hit you." He said coldly. Charlie wasn't one to be bothered endlessly– taunted. He hated it.

"Do it, then." She shoved his shoulder.

"And bruise up that pretty face?" She looked at his reflection as well. A smirk appeared on his lips. "Maybe after a nice go-around. Hm, Melissa? How does that sound to you? This car is new though, I don't want to go ruining the interior." He looked over the roof of his car. "There's a nice alley. That's more fitting." He didn't honestly mean it. Only to give her a bit of a scare. Just to teach her. As said before, he hated being taunted. iWhen you mess with the bull.../i "Maybe I'll fucking bruise you up after we finish up with each other, though..." He turned around and just for good measure, he reached out to grab her wrist.

It was then that he noticed how pale her face was. She no longer held a challenging look on her face. No glare or scowls. Charlie expected that she'd stopped trying to push him over the edge, but... She looked ill. He didn't actually think she'd take it seriously. He thought that she knew he was only screwing around with her. But maybe not.

It hit him suddenly. Actually, it seemed to ram into his chest. The realization of why Melissa seemed familiar. Realizing why his words had such an affect on her.

"You're her!" He shouted suddenly, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "You're that girl!" Charlie's eyes were wide, his mouth hung open slightly. "You're that girl that was in that alley a year or two ago, aren't you? The one I pulled that man off of."

She stared at him in silence. She licked her lips slowly, aware that her throat felt too dry to talk. Melissa looked him from head to toe, exhaling a breath she had been holding in. "You're... You'd..." Her eyes moved back to his face. It was the same face that she saw back in the alley, right after she had decided she was too tired to fight off the stranger. He had appeared suddenly, shouting at the man and pulling him off Melissa. There had been a fight between the two. Melissa assumed that her rescuer had one, because minutes later he was kneeling next to her, trying to help her up.

She swallowed hard. "You had helped me." Charlie slowly nodded his head, staring at her in a way like this new discovery was unbelievable.

"I remember you now... recognize you. You got taller a bit. You're hair was longer. You'd been bruised up when I got there" Charlie was saying this more to himself than to Melissa. "Eyes, though. The same..." He shook his head slightly, quietly musing: "I had wondered what happened to her– to you."

"Now you know... You had helped me... " Melissa regained herself slowly, realizing why she had come in the first place. Confront Charlie. She couldn't let herself be side-tracked by the past. Just because he helped her, and she silent thanked God for him coming, well it doesn't mean that those decent feelings will still linger. It could've been a once-in-a-lifetime situation for Charlie. People can change in Gotham, especially in the depression-like times Gotham had been facing for year. . "But now they say that you're a threat to me."

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed together in a scowl as he turned away from him. He took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and pulled one out and stuffed it into his mouth before lighting it. He took a long drag of it as he cast a glance at her, the scowl gone but replaced by annoyance."I _could_ be a danger to you, bonny-lass. I really could... but tell me... what is the point of that? Of me hurting, scaring, or killing you?" It was an honest question though he didn't seem to care to hear her answer.

"You and Crane... Maybe you'd be..."

"Back in his ranks or something like that? Why?" He shook his head, letting out a huff of smoke. "Who does he even think he is? Does he think he is the only one with secrets to hide? 'Dr. Jonathan Crane'-" He said the name in distaste, putting on an expression to match, like it was it was the filthiest name ever said, "is not the only one in Gotham city with money. Falcone is also pretty loaded up." He laughed, "Maybe I'll go off and work for him." He took another long drag of the cigarette, his eyes wandering to the icy-water. The grin from the laugh was melting off his face. "Even if you were out of the picture, I'd doubtfully go back working for him."

"Why not?" She asked quietly, leaning against the car next to him, her eyes still on the ground.

"Things happen. Things change." He slowly looked back to her moments after saying this. Melissa, feeling his eyes on her head, looked up to meet his stare. They looked at each other in heavy silence before Charlie spoke again. "Especially with _him_. I mean, honestly, look at the man! Dr. Crane, he's the top dog at Arkham; there is also the Scarecrow side, though. At any moment... Crane can snap to Scarecrow... and then what happens? Dr. Crane _may_ have a soft spot for you, Melissa but I don't think the Scarecrow would."

Melissa looked away from Charlie, up to the hazy sky. "But..."

"But what, Melissa?" He asked harshly. "What do you think of that bird? That everything will always be just peachy between the two of you? That he'll give up everything? If it is between you and his work... Well, let's just say that you're number two." He flicked the cigarette to the ground, twisting his foot down on it. "By far-- you're number two." Melissa stared at his boot in silence as it twisted it on the ground.

"I don't think that he would do that. Anything like that." By 'that' she meant something that could, in someway, hurt her. She didn't think he'd use the toxin against her, nor did she think he was using her for his own fun and games.

"Melissa... He's a fucking psychopath or schizophrenic or... something like that. Ask him what he is. I'm sure he can diagnose himself as something." He licked his lips and shook his head. "You trust him, don't you?" When Melissa didn't respond, he continued on. "Trust him with your life, hm? Trust him with your sanity?" Charlie's voice was filled with bitterness, "Do you love him, Melissa?"

"No– but..."

"But you've let your guard down, I bet. I remember back when you first came around. Suspicious of everything and everyone. I could see it in your face. Nervous, too. I bet you were hoping to God that he didn't change his mind about testing on your. I bet you were praying that you wouldn't screw anything up... Then it seemed to change. You're easily relying on him these days, aren't you? Taking his word without doubt? It must be true if he says so, right?"

She slowly shook her head. "No..I..." Melissa shook her head again, stumbling to make a defense for herself.

"Then leave." Charlie said as he pushed himself off of the side of the car to open the driver's door.

"What?" She asked, watching him.

"You heard me. Pack up your things and leave. I don't think he'll have time to come and look for you. I don't think he'll take the extra time to start a search-party for you, either."

"Why should I leave?"

He climbed in the car, resting an arm on the wheel, he looked at her. "It's all for the better. Can you imagine yourself work for Crane for...well who knows how long? Maybe it'll be just a few more weeks...but maybe it'll be months or years. Years... He is never going to give up, Melissa. He is going to continue on trying to perfect his little drug. He'll work on it until the day he dies if he has to... Someplace between now and then... you'll be playing a part of it. Not just as his little assistant, either. I've found it's easier to leave things sooner rather than later. So I'm suggesting that you leave until you're part in his work gets bigger."

She pushed herself off of the car, staring at him blankly. "Do you actually think that... he'd actually-"

"Do something like that?" Charlie finished for her. Melissa nodded. Charlie gave a single a nod as well. "I do. It seems like the idea's been placed in your pretty little head that I'm a threat to you. That I've got an idea to hurt you. Like I'm somehow very dangerous for your well-being... The truth is, like I said before, I COULD be a danger... But Dr. Crane definitely IS one to you."

Melissa's head was rushing with different thoughts. She felt like she was put in a haze by their conversation.

Charlie gave a sort laugh to break the tensioned silence between them. "I already saved your once, Melissa... don't make me do it again. I don't think I do well with the 'knight-in-shining-amour' role...unless there is some sort of a reward involved." He quirked his brows in a suggestive manner, but Melissa was too distracted to notice.

She slowly shook his head. "I don't believe you. I don't think that Jonathan would do something like that..."

Charlie's brows dropped with frustration. "You think I'm lying? Why don't you asked your brother for his thoughts on the situation? Why don't you ask him who shouldn't be trusted— me or Crane?"

"My brother?"

"Yeah. Your foster-brother. Alex... I'm sure he has some very interesting opinions on Crane." Charlie put on a mockingly-fake look of surprise on, "Oh, _'Jonathan' _didn't tell you? He put Alex in Arkham... Alex had gone to Arkham on your birthday, looking for you. Then, because you weren't there, he went to the cops who then set up a date with Crane. Crane then labeled Alex as a crazy... Eventually, you'll wind up the same as Alex– or worse– if you don't leave him."

That was all that Charlie said before he slammed the car door. He left Melissa alone in the parking lot as he pulled away. Charlie only glanced up in the rearview mirror once. The one person he had helped,_ really_ helped, was now working for that bird. It didn't seem like much of an improvement from when he first saw her in the alley.

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_Reviews, hm, hm?_


	23. Sickness

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait. I really am. Writer's block. I keep trying to think of a way to start winding this story to it's end. Have a thought of a way yet? Maybe, maybe not. I hope this chapter can satisfy you, my readers– if you are still around, and make-up for the waiting time. I do take happiness from Melissa being a tough one to figure out, though. Maybe this chapter will make it easier. Maybe not. Maybe it'll just make things more complicated. This chapter is focused on Melissa and Jonathan's little... oddball...situation. I can't explain it. But,

Enjoy! And Review! ..Because more reviews make more chapters come more fast..Again**: Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 23:**

_Sickness_

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"How're you feeling this morning, Melissa?" He asked, looking up at her as she walked into the kitchen.

Jonathan pursed his lips together into a thin line, his eyes moving across her face and body. Not in any sort of a sexual way, it was the opposite. His glacier eyes were finding every thing that looked off about her. Every little detail that looked wrong. Her face was terribly pale. There were dark circles under her eyes which were slightly puffy, an obvious sign of a lack of sleep. Her dark hair was limply hanging past her shoulders, looking somewhat oily as well. The whites of her eyes were pink like some crying had been done. They looked empty, lost, and glossy– threatening that tears could spill over at any moment.

He furrowed his brows together, but noted nothing out loud of her appearance. He asked no further questions. He simply waited for her voice to come. She licked her lips and looked about herself in a seemingly helpless way.

"What time is it?" Her voice was level, but quiet.

Jonathan looked down to his watch. "It is eight a.m., Melissa. Would you care for some breakfast?" His eyebrows raised in a question, though he didn't wait for a reply. He pushed back the chair from the table and stood up, walking to the stove. Melissa's breakfast had already been made. She sat in the chair quietly, looking to the left to see what was left on Jonathan's plate. Half-eaten piece of bread. Some eggs. Some juice. A newspaper was sitting to the side of the plate.

In Small Black, but bold, letters read the headline: _'Elderly Man Disappears from Port View Retirement Home'_. It was a small column. A couple sentences past a paragraph. It was a column seen unimportant by most. Shoved to the lower left corner on the fifth page. Melissa's shoulders hunched up for a few brief seconds. Charlie's father. She didn't have to read it to know. Her thoughts were interrupted by Jonathan's hand setting a plate and glass in front of her. Orange juice, scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, and a banana. She pushed a smile onto her lips, forcing her eyes up to Jonathan's. "Thank-you, Jonathan." She murmured.

He sat back in his chair and gave a single small nod, his eyes on hers closely, as he folded the newspaper up. Though their eyes were locked on each other's, Melissa could sense there was bitterness as he folded it up. Maybe annoyance. Did he know? Did he know that she went to talk Charlie? Maybe one of his men told him. She was suppose to be with the men in the basement, waiting for orders of what next to do. When he returned that evening, he knocked on her door, calling her name. She had answered it with an apology, saying she was feeling ill. Melissa had been using that excuse for a week now.

He did know. Melissa could see it in his eyes. He somehow knew. He followed through with his threat to Charlie's father. Did that mean he knew that Melissa knew about Alex? Maybe, maybe not. Feeling a sickening lump in her throat, she dropped her eyes to her plate. She didn't have to pretend to feel sick. She was. Maybe it wasn't from a virus, but after hearing what Charlie said... Being under Crane's stare, she felt as if she could break at any moment. Start to cry. Then he would be there to comfort her. To be a shoulder to cry on. That's what he would want, isn't it? Or maybe it would be the opposite. Maybe he'd only watch her cry with his icy glaring eyes. She'd hate it if he did that.

It suddenly hit Melissa. It felt like an arrow was shot into her chest. Her chest felt sudden tight and her heart heavy. This is was Charlie was talking about. Jonathan had her. Crane had her. She didn't want to displease him. She didn't want him to be upset with her. She wanted him to be there to comfort her. Love? Could Dr. Jonathan Crane, who shared a body with Scarecrow, ever love anyone? Or was this just a mindgame? Was she another one of his experiments?

Tears were stinging at her eyes at this realization as she stared down the eggs on her plate.

"You're not hungry?" Jonathan questioned, looking down to her food. Was he mocking her? "Do you want something else?" He lifted his hand under her chin, turning her face towards his own. "Melissa?" Earnestness. "Would you like a doctor?" There was a pause, "I mean a medical doctor– a hospital doctor? A clinic doctor? I'm sure I could find one in Gotham that's willing to make house calls if you are not up to the idea of going to a hospital."

She closed her eyes tightly as his thumb began to softly stroke her cheek. She didn't pull away from it. There was some part of her that enjoyed being close to him. Another part was screaming to jump away from him. Screaming that she was being taken advantage of him. But she didn't pull back. That first part of her felt relaxed with his touch.

"What do you need to do today, Jon?"

He dropped his hand from under her chin and sighed, looking around the kitchen. "I need to take care of a problem, though I don't think it'll take too long. A brief meeting to fix the problem. I think I should be back by noon, today. One at the latest... And yourself? What do you think you'll be doing today? You still look ill... I think you should rest up today. There's some medicine in my bedroom, if you'd like to help yourself. Maybe you should take a few sleep-aids." It was more advice than a suggestion. She nodded. "If you aren't any better by this evening, we'll take a trip to a hospital to see if there is anything that can be done to help you." She nodded again.

He finished with his eggs, took a last drink of the juice, and stood up again. Jonathan tucked the newspaper under his arm, and walked to the door. He pulled on his jacket, picked up his briefcase, and cast Melissa a last look.

"Get plenty of rest, Melissa. I'll try to be back by this afternoon. I expect to find you sleeping." His doctor's tone was in his voice. She answered with an 'okay'. His eyes meet hers again, "Well, until then, my sweetheart." Jonathan gave her a last nod before he was out the door.

Melissa stared at the door after he closed it behind him.

Sweetheart. That's what he called her. He had kidnaped her. Nearly tested some new drug on her. He almost choked her to death. Told her she killed her parents. He threatened her life when she had shown hesitation about find him victims. Her ex-doctor. The psychologist. The Scarecrow. The man that she had slept with, and after, he had shown no emotion– as had been usual. But now... he wasn't as constantly blank and bland with his expression.

Dr. Jonathan Crane called her 'my sweetheart'. It was not completely a mindless tone, either. He had taken her foster-brother to Arkham Asylum, according to Charlie. Made Alex out to me crazy. But he called Melissa his sweetheart.

Melissa's stomach lurched forward as another realization slapped her in the face. She liked hearing herself called it. The logical part of her was screaming at her again to leave. Get out. Run. This is not how normal people should be thinking of their kidnappers. Charlie's advice was the right advice. She needed to leave as soon as possible. The possibility was open now. Jonathan would be gone for another four or five hours.

Melissa gave a single nod to herself. She had to leave.


	24. The History Lesson

_**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait. There's been tons of schoolwork. Holidays. Writer's Block. Etc... BUT, here is something important. Here is the end to "Serving the Scarecrow"._

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_Chapter 24:_

**The History Lesson**

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Dr. Crane let out a heavy sigh, looking away from his pager. It was not coming from 'Home', it wasn't coming from Melissa. It was coming from the basement, but for a long moment, he failed to act. He only leaned back in his chair, staring at the Melissa's file. Two nights before, he had dug it out of the other files he had taken from the asylum. They had been locked away in a safe and that safe had been shoved into a deep corner of his closet. Blinking, his eyes took a last-second look over the front page. The records told her full name, her guardians, the offense against her, it had a picture of the first day she arrived, as long as mugshots. In those mugshots, she had looked utterly petrified. Such a young, beautiful face overcome by such fear. In a way, it hurt Jonathan to look at them, yet he continued to gaze. In another way, it did not much matter to Dr. Crane. It was only a way to try to further analyze her mental state. And in the last way, it bothered and annoyed him. It bothered the Scarecrow to no end. _He_ should've caused that look of fear.

Dr. Crane pushed his chair from his desk, but could not force himself to stand. He kept his eyes on the file. He reached out, beginning to flip the pages of the files. Combing through them for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was trying to find anything he may've missed, trying to find anything that seemed even slightly relevant to knowing more about her. Maybe it would be able to help him have an idea to where she would be. He had looked for any sort of relatives, but there were none. She had no aunts, no uncles, no cousins, and no siblings. At least by blood, anyway. He had already checked over her foster-parents, thinking that by some off-chance, she would've returned to them. He had the city's files checked for them. The mother, he found, had died of a sickness years earlier; the father had remarried and had moved out of the city, out of the country even. Alex was the only family she had left... and Dr. Crane knew _exactly_ where he was: In_ his _asylum.

With another sigh, he let all of the pages drop back down. Swallowing, he lightly pressed his thumb against Melissa's thumbprint. This was all the closer he could come to touching her. He had liked touching her– be it only on her back to nudge her forward, her arm or shoulder to get her attention. He had liked to hold her chin and cheek in his palm the most. It caused such a feeling. A feeling like she needed him, like she was his to keep safe and protect from Gotham, it had somehow filled a gap that had taken shape over the years. He had liked having another living soul in his house. A person to talk to, to eat meals with, to look at, to feel the warmth... And at all these memories, his chest suddenly felt like it had been punched. There was a bitterness in his mouth as he removed his thumb from the paper. He stuffed the records back into the file, and put the files back into his briefcase. He stood up, straightening his tie and collar. Dr. Crane grabbed the handle of his briefcase and looked at his reflection in the glass of a plaque against his wall. His face had hardened from any previous softness there may have been. He grabbed a small, white, aerosol can from the corner of his desk and put it into the inner-pocket of his business coat before walking out of his office– slamming the door behind him.

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One of his men– one with a pony tail-- was standing in front of him, the rest were hanging further back, standing near the large wooden crates. Two nervously glanced at eachother– one folded his arms before looking back to Dr. Crane and the man with the pony-tail, the other dropped his eyes to his shoes, apparently he had found something interesting to look at. Dr. Crane look over the man's shoulder at his men, all of who seemed on-edge of the event that was laying out before them. Licking his lips, Dr. Crane turned his icy stare to the man standing in front of him. "What was so important that you interrupted me?" 

The one with pony-tail cleared his throat. Then cleared it again, "Well... It's about Melissa."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. The look in his eyes warned that it better be something useful. "Well what is it then? I'd love to hear."

"Well...Right. Right. If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure she wasn't kidnaped."

"'Makes you feel any better'?" He repeated with annoyance."Are you pretty sure or sure?"

"Well, I'd gone to Charlie's, like you told me to, and Melissa wasn't there. Charlie wasn't there either, though. I looked around. I even looked in the closets, in the shower, under the beds and all. He wasn't there. I saw on the kitchen table... Well, there was this note. It was signed by Charlie, and it told where he went. It also said that Melissa had been with him."

"Where did it say he went?"

"Okay. I screwed that up with what I said. It didn't say where he– they went, it just said that they had both left. That they were out of the city."

"So, let me get this clear... I'm suppose to feel better knowing that she was not kidnapped, but rather that she ran away from me?" He could hear a bite in his voice. A sharpness in it.

"Well at least she hadn't been kidnaped and isn't being tortured or something, right?"

Dr. Crane glared at him in silence, "Did the note say anything else?"

The man stared at him, then looked over his shoulders to the others behind him, looking for any sort of support from them. They were smart enough to keep their mouths quiet, and eyes off of his. If they did look him in the eye, it was only with a hardness in them. He turned back around. "'Good luck finding us, Scarecrow. X and O." Dr. Crane closed his eyes at hearing this, trying to keep his temper out of his voice. The Scarecrow was starting to whisper in his ear. The man continued on, "But, y'know, Dr. Crane... They say if you love somebody, you should let them go...if they come back, then it's meant to be." One of the men standing in the back muttered an 'Oh God' at hearing this, shaking his head, knowing in an instant this was the wrong thing to tell Dr. Crane. "I didn't want to be the bearer of bad new, Doctor... But I was the one that was sent, and I was the one that found the note, so..."

Dr. Crane took of his glasses, wiping his shirt across the lenses. He turned his back to his men, taking a few steps away from them. As soon as his back was turned, all of the men looked at each other, cautious of what would happen next. Dr. Crane set his briefcase on the table he reached into his jacket pocket. Then he turned to open his brieface. "Are you aware what happened in ancient times when rulers got messages that the did not like?" The Scarecrow questioned, "Do you know what happened to the messengers?"

Silence. The tension was a weight in the basement. "_No_? Nobody knows? Did nobody pay attention in History class at school?" The Scarecrow went on. "Well then, if you don't know, today can be a History lesson for you all." He suddenly turned around to them, the burlap mask hiding the crooked grin on his face.

The man with the pony-tail began to take a step away, but pause midway, obviously thinking that stepping away would only worsen the situation that he was in. "When rulers did receive messages they did not like, they would kill the messengers. Don't you fret though,_ I_ am not going to kill you, my boy." He walked closer to the man, letting the small can slip from his sleeve into his hand. "I'm not a murderer, after all. All of this is for the sake of science." He made a grand gesture of the basement, "For knowledge! It is to help! It will help me, maybe even help the world, understand fear. After all, let us remember that there is nothing to fear but fear itself!"

And in the next instant, he had pulled the can up to the man's face, spraying it.

The man fell to the ground. All eyes were on him. He slowly pushed himself up, staring at those around him. His eyes turned to the Scarecrow.

The silence was suddenly broken by his screams.

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_**- End of-- Serving the Scarecrow -**_

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_**Author's Notes:** How was that for an ending? You should Review! Post Questions if you want, if there's quite a few questions, or even just one or two important ones... I'll probably add the answer to the story in a "chapter" way. Not write it into the story, but just post another chapter with something like "Author's Answer" or something like that... I couldn't think of a way I wanted to end this. To all conclusions I had thought about, conclusions that could answer all questions and fill in the gaps, well-- I couldn't think of a way of getting to THAT conclusion. So I ended it like this. I was satisfied with it, actually. Did a look in Crane's thoughts and feelings for Melissa. Finished off with Crane's POV. Left it as... a mystery to where she left to. He doesn't know...neither does the reader. A mystery all around._

_Should there be a SEQUEL? Are there questions that weren't answered? Are you curious to how I originally planned for this to be? Should I just keep the story the story like this and let you make up your own ideas of what happened next in Crane and Melissa's lives- if they'd met again... Or should I make an epilouge or something such as that?_


	25. Serving the Scarecrow II

Sequel to Serving the Scarecrow (without the spaces):

www. fanfiction. net / s / 359 251 9 /1/

**Serving the Scarecrow II - The Darkened Love**

**Summary:** Melissa begins to move on with her life after Dr. Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow. She is engaged to Alrick, a young man born into a wealthy family. Both are content and excited with sharing their lives with one another. But Jonathan Crane is not willing to give up on his love, Melissa. He finds her and kidnaps the couple. Though he has intentions of charming Melissa back to him, the anticipation to have her to himself causes impatience to grow. A darker side of Jonathan Crane grows– which he tries to hide from Melissa, but easily shows her fiancee. When a new development arises, a way that Jonathan sees will keep Melissa with him– he'll do whatever it takes to make her love him.

Set AFTER the movie takes place... Three years after Melissa leaves Crane, too.


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